Colder Than It Looks Outside
by Copper Tragic
Summary: Explaining the origin of Legolas's scar, Aragorn embarks on a tale from his youth, when the Elf and Man found themselves in great danger and great adventure. Set after 'Every Move You Make'
1. Look at Them

"I could walk but I'll just drive/It's colder than it looks outside" --The Barenaked Ladies, Pinch Me  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
Author's note: This story will have a better summary when I know what the plot is. Silly as this sounds, I have only the first few chapters written and no idea what comes next! Don't worry, my mind's not dry yet, by the time I've written what I've planned there will be a plot. Thanks for your understanding in this. . .strange matter.  
  
*****Prologue  
  
"Are you giving up, adan?"  
  
"No, sindar, you confuse me with yourself."  
  
Legolas laughed and redoubled his efforts against his friend. The old Ranger could use it, he thought, not because this was true but because it amused him to think it. Strider did not return the Elf's smile, which suited them both just fine. Years had spun the two together, and so when Strider did not smile Legolas knew that he was smiling within but was not as liberal with his outward emotional appearance. It was much easier not to think of how this had come to be.  
  
The Ranger, for his part, decided it was high time the Elf was given a run for his money and the miles of his mouth. Perhaps, he thought, he would make the Elf chase him. But where to hide? Strider knew better than to attempt to climb a mallyrn. Many weeks, many years past, he had sported the raw palms of one endeavor. Instead, though. . .Strider fought the offensive, switching so abruptly from defensive that he caught Legolas off guard.  
  
"That was good, Estel!" called the Elf, forgetting. Strider continued to press him back, forcing Legolas to be the one who parried, preferring to be strongest in offensive. When it came to orcs, it was not defense that mattered--not for a good fighter. Now that it came to it, though, most orcs were not quite so skilled with a blade. . .  
  
Lothlorien was a good place to spar, for it was safe. After Moria and. . .after Gandalf's fall. . .Strider knew no safer place than the Golden Wood. Strider himself had taken Gandalf's fall quite well. People died, he knew that, and one day he too would die. He had found his peace with this long ago. It was Legolas who found himself shaking, unable to sit still, near tears at times and angry at others. Death was a difficult concept for the immortal. Gandalf. . .it was not supposed to happen. And so Strider kept his friend busy, mending, talking, sparring.  
  
Which is precisely how they had come to be blade-locked at that moment, until Legolas drew away and swung at Strider, who ducked beneath the weapon. It was more like dancing than fighting, the "offensive" fighter leading. With so many twists and twirls, the opponents such close comrades, that it was inconceivable that should be fighting: why not dancing? Both had the grace, one natural and one acquired with time, the concentration.  
  
Suddenly something distracted Legolas, he turned--Strider never meant it. He had not meant to hurt Legolas, but had expected the Elf to block him. "Legolas!" Strider sheathed his sword at once. Legolas turned to the pain in his shoulder and swore quietly, moving to rub the wound clean with his sleeve. "Let me see it," Strider insisted. Legolas obediently lowered himself to a large rock. By now the Halflings had clustered about, asking what was going on and wanting to know if Legolas was all right.  
  
Strider grimaced at the noise as he pulled Legolas's tunic gently away from his shoulder, examining the slash the Ranger knew he was responsible for. "It is not bad," he reported. "Not too deep, nothing important severed." Legolas knew this for a joke, but the hobbits did not and had a worried look to them. Carefully Strider cleaned out the wound, dabbing up the excess blood, and placed a bandage over it. "Be careful with this," Strider said. "The last thing we need is an infection."  
  
"Legolas," Pippin asked, "how did you get that scar?"  
  
Looking to his shoulder, Legolas saw what Pippin meant: semi-circular marks on his left shoulder. The Elf looked to the Ranger, who nodded. "Strider gave them to me," Legolas told Pippin, "many years ago."  
  
"Strider, that wasn't noble!" gasped Pippin who had been learning from Boromir of the ethics of battle and highly doubted that biting someone was completely proper.  
  
Strider looked to the darkening sky, then said, "Allow me a moment to start a fire, Peregrin, and I shall spin you a story such that your views of noble will never be the same." Remembering all the tales his brothers told around their own campfires, Strider felt that it was only tradition to recount this tale.  
  
The commotion had not gone unnoticed, and by the time smoke rose to the high heavens not only Pippin but Merry, Sam, Frodo, Gimli and even Boromir had gathered by the fire. Strider, unprepared for such an audience, looked about for a place to sit. Legolas, behind him, occupied the stump of an unlucky tree, whom lightening had ended shortly. Now Strider folded himself to the ground beside his friend and began, "When I was five and ten years old. . ."  
  
*****  
  
To be continued  
  
Chapters will get longer, that was only the prologue. Let me know what you think! (I'm not saying I won't continue, that's a blatant lie because I will, but it helps me to know what you as the readers want and what you like) 


	2. They Are Your True Philosophers

"There goes a forest and there goes a bluebird./There goes a partridge and there goes a Go Train./There goes an angel and there goes a steeple./There goes a cop car and there goes an eagle." --The Barenaked Ladies, The Flag  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Lord of the Rings' or any recognizable characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
Estel hummed softly to himself, not sure exactly what it was he was humming as he tracked the bluebird across the sky. It flapped its wings, flying over the treetops, twittering. Or at least, Estel imagined it was twittering, but could not hear the twitters from his perch, in the hayloft in the stables. The hayloft quite possibly was the best hiding-spot in all Imladris, for the son of Elrond. No one would think to look there, and if they did, he might simply disappear beneath the hay. Now, though, he had no need to bury himself. No one was looking. His back was pressed against the corner, but not in such a way that he could not see out of the window. An open book rested on his lap and a pen in his hand, a pot of ink beside him.  
  
Through the window, Estel had a fair view. If anyone came looking for him, he would see--and most likely hear them calling his name. He would see them cross to the stables. If anyone was hurt, he would see them taken into the Hall of Healing. But mostly, Estel watched the birds over the trees and the lips of the valley, dreaming and wondering.  
  
With a deep sigh, he rested his elbow on his thigh and his chin on his fist. His hair slipped across the page before him, leaving a greasy trail. 'Dear Ranger,' he thought to his absent pet, composing a letter in his head as he had many times in the book now fallen to the hay. 'I miss you, boy. Ada has not allowed me out of Imladris since I returned from Eregion. A part of me is glad for this, to know so certainly that I am loved and cared for, and that I need not worry for the outer world nor fear it, for I am safe. Yet another, stronger part of me despises these confines. Torture me, but allow me the free air! Oh, Ranger, do you remember? To run fast as we could, to run simply for the joy of running as fast as we could. Ada worries when I run now, or ride faster than a canter. I am unhappy bound here, how ironic. In Eregion I wanted only to go home. . .now I am over-eager to leave again. Do you understand, Ranger? You always did understand me best. If only you were here now. Alas, but tears will achieve nothing. Namaarie for now, love-from Estel.'  
  
Estel had abruptly ended his letter because of the voices carrying to the hayloft from below. Horses' hooves plodding along to their stalls had gone unnoticed, but as Elladan and Elrohir cleaned their tack and groomed their horses, Estel paused to listen. "I am glad he will be here again," Elrohir was saying. "Hardly any time has passed since we last saw the Prince, yet I miss him."  
  
"You really think. . .hardly any time, even with Estel?" Elladan asked. "Perspective changes with a mortal child. He changes so much in so little time." There was a note of regret to his voice, as though this was a change not wholly welcome. "But perhaps seeing Legolas again will be good for him."  
  
"Yes," Elrohir agreed, to Elladan's speech in entirety. "Come, we ought to inform Father. I am sure he will also like to know about Legolas. . ."  
  
Their conversation trailed off as they left the stables, at least to Estel's ears. He considered listening from the window, but somehow listening to his brothers' private talk seemed wrong; unlike listening to Ada and Glorfindel talk, or Erestor, or even one twin to his father, Elladan and Elrohir's discussions were different. Estel stoppered up this ink-pot and wiped the nib of his pen on the inside of his cuff. All of this he swept into a pouch which he hid safely within his tunic, unwilling for the others to know of his private writings.  
  
Estel climbed down from the hayloft and made his way slowly back to his room. He should not be seen running, else his plan would fail. Indeed, Estel had a plan already, for he was unwilling to see Legolas. To see the Prince would be to acknowledge the truth of Eregion, and though Estel thought often of it, his subconscious had not accepted the facts of it yet. He was unready. But how, how to avoid the visitor? Estel knew well enough what would be asked of him: join us at supper, Estel. No, you may not be excused. You must be polite. Estel. . .  
  
He shook his head, trying hard to forget many such talks. Mostly he avoided the house until the sun had set, and this was permitted, after many months of fruitless argument and of a dead-eyed Estel poking at the food on his plate until at last he was excused. Tonight, unless he did something terrible and was sent to his room, Estel would not be excused, under any circumstances, and his usual listless behaviour would not be permitted. For a moment he considered doing something truly awful, overturning a glass of milk in Legolas's hair or some such thing, but he knew better. Missing one supper was not worth a punishment that inevitably would last for at least two weeks. Mucking out stall in the stables or menial labour in the library, likely, would result in the milk trick. Nevertheless, should Estel's initial plan not work out, he stored away the idea, in case of emergency.  
  
Estel made himself look ill. He took his time with it, once the journal was safely hidden beneath the floorboards. He slapped himself across the face to make the blood rush to his cheeks, giving him a flushed appearance and a heightened temperature. Pain was inconsequential and transient. Then he rubbed his eyes until they hurt. His expression he had already perfected. With only the slightest misgivings about lying, Estel stumbled out into the corridor.  
  
"Ada?" he asked, knocking on Elrond's study door. He hoped the twins had been already, that would probably make things easier. Either way, he could manage. After all, he was a mortal, giving him certain advantages. This was one of those few.  
  
"Come in, Estel," Elrond replied, and Estel did so.  
  
Before Elrond managed a further word, Estel said, "Ada, I don't feel very well." As it were, Elrond did not know that Estel had overheard the twins' conversation in the stables. It would not be difficult, his awareness of their approaching guest unknown, to claim illness. Something might appear suspicious about an illness developed suddenly upon that announcement.  
  
Estel knew he had prepared for the proper test when Elrond, a worried look on his face, felt his son's forehead. "You are warm, but it is not necessarily a fever. Where do you feel sick?"  
  
"My head hurts," Estel replied, knowing that, for him at least, headaches were often linked to vomiting.  
  
"Can you see clearly?" asked Elrond, scrutinizing Estel's pupils. He hadn't thought of that.  
  
"There are dots," Estel replied.  
  
"Well, nothing looks too bad here, Estel."  
  
"Really?" he tried not to sound worried there. "What a relief," he added, for effect.  
  
Elrond gave Estel a reassuring smile and went over to his desk to look for something as he spoke. "Estel, do you remember Legolas?" Elrond carefully did not mention from where Estel might remember Legolas. "He will be arriving tonight, and I had hoped you would clean up and. . ." Estel stopped listening. He knew what was being said, and awaited an opportunity. When Elrond's attention was fully focused on the papers on his desk, Estel jammed his finger into his throat.  
  
*****  
  
To Be Continued  
  
Author's note: I didn't know what Estel ought to write with, so I wrote "pen". I don't mean a ballpoint pen there, but it's called a pen what you use in calligraphy. That's the type I meant. Also, as for headaches and vomiting, this may not apply to everyone, but often with me the two happen simultaneously. Sorry if that's a bit off for everyone else. Jamming your finger down your throat will most certainly cause you to vomit.  
  
Daw the Minstrel: Hm, well, it's not the movies that formed my opinion of the matter (though not a purist, I try not to deviate from the books) I do not think Legolas would be all too familiar with death. Elves live for ever. They don't need to contemplate dying. As for the biting. . .you'll see. Oh, by the way, the other day I had to title a newspaper and had just read your review--ended up titling it "The Traveling Minstrel". 


	3. I Think Mack and the Boys Know Everythin...

"The phone rings, it's early, it's seven o'clock/He says 'Sorry I woke you but I just had to talk'" --The Barenaked Ladies, The Flag  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
Estel slept fitfully, and woke again to the sounds of voices raised in cheer and crickets singing their greetings or farewells. He was vaguely aware of his position, one arm lolling over the edge of the bed gone numb, for he had slept on it, his vision blurred as that of a dream short in waking from a long or pleasant dream. Because his mouth hung half-open he closed it, then rolled off his arm and forced himself to sit up.  
  
For a goodly while he stood by the window, watching the world go by, acutely aware of every little thing. A squirrel raced along an oak branch to carry a nut to his stores. A marmot munched happily on a juicy root. A nesting bird shifted atop her eggs, seeking a more comfortable position. Somewhere two starlings twittered angrily at each other in a battle either of food or territory.  
  
Estel sighed. To be such a creature! So simple and easy, eating, sleeping, the occasional fight and, in autumn, preparations for the winter. Or did these preparations go on all year? Realizing that he did not know, Estel straightened. He should have to find out, he decided, tomorrow. That should be interesting to know.  
  
Not now, of course, for he had best get more sleep. He was tired yet. Crossing from the window to the bed, Estel shifted the covers and crawled beneath them, then, although it was warm enough of a night, pulled the covers up to his chin, and felt quite secure this way. He closed his eyes, all ready for a night of peaceful slumber. This was not forthcoming.  
  
Estel found himself suddenly wide awake, and his mind all full of thoughts. His conscience troubled him for lying and for rudeness. Surely Ada did not know that Estel was not truly ill. . .right? And what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. . .would it? So long as Legolas did not know that Estel was faking his illness, and so long as Ada did not know, no one was being hurt. This Estel resolved, and resigned himself a second time to a night of pleasant sleep.  
  
But this again would not come. "All right," Estel grumbled, "I understand it. They may not know, but I do. Fine, foul beast, take thy victory!" With no further curses Estel threw the covers away from him a second time and climbed from bed, left the room in a decisive huff and sulked to the library.  
  
Taking one of the lanterns from near the window, Estel shed light on the dim room, his gaze wandering over careful shelves of books. He found three with promise of the knowledge he sought, drew these with him and plunked down in a nice corner to read. Here he fell asleep, and here he was found the next morning, the lantern burned low and his head resting heavily on a book of animal studies.  
  
*****  
  
"Do not take offense by his actions," said Lord Elrond, after explaining to Legolas where Estel was, and his suspicions about this so-called illness.  
  
"Of course not," Legolas replied, "we were all young once." He was in slight put-off that the mortal should act this way, for he had thought them friends, but of course understood. Men were susceptible to illness; if Estel should be taken with such symptoms as had been described then Legolas was indeed glad that the boy had taken rest.  
  
"Legolas," Elrond began again, uncertain but daring not let it show in his voice, "you count Estel among your friends, do you not?"  
  
Legolas paused, finding Elrond's elusive behaviour and over-cautious speech suspect. The younger Elf stood beside his horse, the reliable mare he rode in on the night before. Birds twittered outside in the bright, clear morning, and horses within ruminated, in one sense or another. The prince of Mirkwood had not roused himself very early, being tired from yesterday's ride a feeling slight effects of the quantity of alcohol he and the twins had imbibed the previous night, but had nevertheless seen with a care to his mount; she had never once failed him, and he was glad and thankful for this. Now he stopped, a brush gripped in his hands only half drawn across the mare's flank.  
  
"What does this mean?" asked Legolas, levering himself over the stall door. The mare voiced her protest and nudged Legolas's shoulder. "Shh, quiet, girl," the Elf soothed, rubbing the mare's head gently. With an indignant snort, she resigned herself to hay and Legolas returned to Elrond, who waited patiently.  
  
"If you count yourself his friend, or he yours, then you must help him." Taking a deep breath, Elrond continued, "He never was the same after Eregion. This may seem odd, my asking your help, when you know not who my son once was. Nevertheless, it seems I must ask this of you. Help him, Legolas, please. There is naught we have been able to do, but you--I believe he fears you, Legolas. Everything about you reminds him of Eregion, of the time before. No one in Imladris holds this fear over him."  
  
"You said he was ill," Legolas said after a long silence in which he could decide on no thought to give voice. There was accusation in his voice, though he had no place to take it and at once regretted his tone, not after the slight pleading edge Elrond had been unable to keep from his own tongue. "Forgive me, I spoke out of turn. For your son, I will do what I can."  
  
Elrond smiled. "Thank you, Legolas. Forgiven, of course."  
  
Returning to his work, Legolas confided, "In truth, this lightens my conscience as well as your own." He laughed a little at Elrond's noise of surprise. "I saw the ease on your face at the prospect of having back your old Estel. For myself, I have long owed you a debt. Now, I think, if Estel's ailment is within my power to heal, we will be even."  
  
"We are even," Elrond replied, his conscience shaking slightly. "But if you do this only for me--"  
  
"For him, of course," Legolas replied. "Only it is my upbringing that teaches me lose a debt soon as it is earned."  
  
This was the custom of some, Elrond knew, and though it was not his manner, he accepted it. "Luck of the Valar be yours," he said, quietly that Legolas did not hear it, and left the stable quietly. Legolas took his time tending the mare. A plan slowly began to form in his mind.  
  
Not more than half an hour later, Legolas found a sleeping adan boy in the library. "Estel," he said gently, crouching to be level with him and shaking the boy's shoulder. "Estel, wake up." His first instinct had been to run when he saw Estel's eyes closed, but by virtue of memory he recall in the nick of time that mortals slept this way, and it did not mean grievous injury. "Perhaps awake but keep those eyes shut; your not wishing to see me is perfectly understood. However, from what your family tells me, we need to have a serious talk, Estel."  
  
"I do not want to talk to you," replied Estel, sitting up but keeping his eyes closed tight.  
  
"Very well. Then would you come riding with me? It is only courtesy, as you well know--"  
  
"All, right, all right!" Estel muttered, then stood, looked away and opened his eyes. "I will meet you in the stables, then." Legolas only hoped Estel would keep his word as the boy left to dress in his own room. Not that one such minor setback would have caused him to give up, of course.  
  
*****  
  
To be continued  
  
Author's note: The ruminating joke: 'ruminate' means either to meditate or to 'chew the cud', as cattle do. And no worries, Legolas's plan is nothing ill.  
  
Daw the Minstrel: He, er, has not longer got a dog. It's addressed in an earlier story. (Badly organized? Yes. Just my way of doing things. I do so apologize for it) By that age, I reckon growing up is not really a choice any longer, especially not in that sort of a society. Don't you think? The Elves keep fifteen as youth, but surely Elrond--with Elros, and all--must realize.  
  
Deana: VERY lucky you! Each finger meaning ten I could maybe count on one hand! No, after all, he has the twins and Elrond to welcome him and explain about Estel. He'll understand; he's a grown-up. Even for an Elf, he's grown- up, lol.  
  
Star-Stallion: It's awful. . .  
  
Pink Satin: He doesn't dislike Legolas, only he doesn't want to see Legolas because his memories of Legolas all tie into Eregion, which he tries hard not to remember or think about.  
  
For everyone waiting for the bite: all in good time. 


	4. I Think They Survive in this Particular ...

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
Though he loved his own mare, Legolas decided to borrow (with explicit permission) Elladan's horse, referred to simply as Rokko. Another ride without a decent calm would be overtaxing for the mare. She carried him from Mirkwood, and deserved her rest.  
  
Approaching Rokko, the prince was slightly surprised. Elladan hardly seemed the type to ride a white-and-brown speckled horse, yet here he was, not particularly tall yet tall enough for an Elf to ride, looking quite like a docile child's mount. With an exclamation of surprise, then a responding shrug, Legolas approached Rokko, slipping the bridle higher over his shoulder.  
  
Rokko pushed against Legolas's chest with her head. Caught off his guard, he recoiled, stumbling away from the stall. When he regained footing, there was a smile on his face. "You amazing fiend," he muttered, amused and pleasantly surprised. It was a while since any horse had thrown him, or knocked him off his feet. Here was a pleasant challenge.  
  
Singing a soft song of Gil-Galad, the Elf gently approached the horse. He rubbed Rokko's neck softly and groomed the horse with great care. All the while Rokko stood, his nostrils flaring, warning the Elf to keep his cautions aware. "I know," Legolas murmured. This was a wonderful horse, truly. Stubborn and suspicious as his master, but, like his master, wonderful nevertheless.  
  
Over occupied with the horse, chattering gaily as he brushed out Rokko's coat and cleaned his hooves, Legolas was unaware of Estel's presence. He did not hear the mortal child enter the stable at all. When Estel caused a slight clinking of the bridle as he gathered it up, Legolas was too absorbed in his horsing activities to notice. When Estel walked to the far end of the stable and approached a horse he knew better than to ride, Legolas did not notice. When said horse stomped his foot in protest, Legolas did look up.  
  
"Estel?" the Elf called. "Are you out there?"  
  
Upon the return of no response, Legolas was satisfied that it was just a horse acting up. He returned to Rokko, ignoring the many snorts and stamps as disquiet spread through the stable. It was only natural for horses to cause a racket. They would calm in their own time, be that a short or long period. Horses were not as intelligent as Men or Elves, yet it seemed--to Legolas, at least--that they resolved their discontents much better.  
  
"You are of a sensible breed," he told Rokko, tightening up the cinch on the stallion's saddle. "With your kind, you do not even need weapons. Now, I do not approve of violence. No Elf does. After the kinslayings, even before, it simply was--is--against the nature of Elves. But Men--Estel? Is that you?" Legolas broke off and called out to his friend. No response came. This was somewhat strange.  
  
The Elf hopped out of the stall. For a moment he stood, looking first one way then the other until he had scrutinized the entirety of the stable. "Huh." He could have sworn he heard something. . ."Estel?" Legolas called again, louder. It was suspiciously quiet. A mouse burrowed into a pile of hay, and a breeze rumbled among hanging bridles. Something was wrong. . .  
  
Then it occurred to Legolas. He remembered what Elrond had told him, the amazing warhorse new to the stable, the one who always caused such a stir among the other horses. . ."Estel!" In a rush Legolas mounted Elladan's horse and broke out of the stable at a canter. When he caught that adan. . .  
  
*****  
  
To be continued  
  
Author's note: Okay, I know this one was short. That may be trend for a while. Yes, I know most people prefer long chapters, but I cannot meet that standard. I'm sorry.  
  
Daw the Minstrel: Well, I'm glad you like it. By me it's an awful cheat. Writing characters free of conscience is a great difficulty for me, so I tend to just add in that bit. But then, Tolkien did stress moral principles. So one might argue that he would support the idea!  
  
Star-Stallion: What's awful is the bit about being ill. But enough on that topic, eh? I'm glad you're reposting, because that was an enjoyable story. 


	5. In a Time When People Tear Themselves to...

"I could be good/And I would/If I knew I was understood" --The Barenaked Ladies, Too Little Too Late

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof

Author's note: Estel's dream is taken from 'Every Move You Make', the prequal to this story.

*****

__

"Why did you stay with me?" asked Estel, shuffling through the papers atop the desk before moving on to one of the drawers. Perhaps it was because he was so afraid to be caught that he talked, trying to calm his nerves, and perhaps it was simply because he had to know. Perhaps he knew what was ahead. But only perhaps.  
  
"I feel so terrible about how we treated you before," Lysander replied. "You are so amazing, Estel. You have such a concept of honour. . .morals. When the others would hurt you I stayed back, too concerned for their opinions of me. I was weak. This is what I do in apology: I stay by you."  
  
Estel could think of nothing to say. He had searched nearly the entire desk, all the drawers, too, by the time his throat unstuck. "You do not have to," he said.  
  
"Yes I do," replied Lysander. He finished the cabinets and knelt to look beneath them, and just then--  
  
"Now this is interesting."  
  
Estel whirled. It was the King, that presumptuous, arrogant creature whom Estel had cast from his mind. So dishonourable, that he would be in the city while his subjects died upon the field. Estel said so.  
  
The King chuckled. "Think before you act, boy. You are unarmed here while I have a sword--" indeed, he did "--and alone. If you value your life you will do as I say." At this Estel might have shriveled with fear, but his heart rose with hope. If Lysander had not been seen, he might be wise enough to run for help.  
  
"What do you want from me?" Estel asked, feigning submission.  
  
"Where are the others?" the King growled, and for the first time Estel saw that the King knew his people were defeated, and fought still. He would fight to the last Man: inevitably himself. And a part of Estel admired this, while he knew it for folly.  
  
"All together where the guilty roam free while the innocent hang from the gallows," Estel replied over-sweetly. Angrily the King shot forward and slammed Estel against the desk. Lysander ran then, and was nearly at the door when the King whirled and drew his sword threateningly. Estel felt terrible, for he knew why the King had found Lysander: his own eyes had wandered.  
  
"Do you think this wise, boy?" asked the King, as Lysander held up his fists. One hand held sword, while the other held down Estel, who began to scrabble for freedom, but stopped as the King laid pressure to his throat and cut of his air supply. Once Estel was still the King relaxed his grip, and Estel did not fight back.  
  
"Let him go," Lysander said.  
  
"You make demands of me, while you have no weapon?"  
  
Lysander reached his hand to the wall and felt along it, seeking and finding the broom. "This is enough for me. Let him go and we will spare your life." The king laughed again, then took a step back, allowing Estel to his feet, drew out a knife and threw it into Lysander's wrist. As he did so Lysander threw the broom to Estel, but it slipped from his fingers. Now, unarmed, he faced the King, whose sword was drawn. . .

"Estel? Estel?"

Estel's eyes snapped open, and he gasped. "Lysander!" But there was no Lysander, no office and no papers, no keys to be had. Birds sang all around him in the trees, and the sound of wind on water brought a sense of calm to him. Estel realized that he was lying on the ground, springy and damp grass beneath him. Then it had all been a dream. . .or a memory. Legolas crouched beside Estel.

"Are you all right?" he asked worriedly. He looked troubled, disheveled, blue eyes wide with worry, his hair thrown askew by an intense ride. The Elf gazed--or perhaps stared--at the mortal, as though willing him to be all right.

"What happened?" Estel's mind began to focus, and with a groan he rubbed his forehead. His head throbbed as his heart. How had he come to be there? He only remembered vaguely the horse. . .the horse!

"You fell off," Legolas replied, laughing slightly. "You were not ready for such a horse, now were you?"

Estel rolled his eyes. "No, Ada," he said, caustic more than comic. "You need not concern yourself with my safety." Glancing about, he found the warhorse grazing nearby, not far from Elladan's Rokko. "I said I would ride with you; I have done so. Good day!" Estel began to rise. The Elf's hand shot out, and he pressed the mortal boy flat against the ground.

"You still dream about Eregion, I see," Legolas observed. He knew well that Estel's harmful tone had been intentional, but knew also that Estel did not mean any personal offense. However, if he wanted to play at this game, so would Legolas.

"Let me go," Estel said narrowly.

"When he found you, Elladan says, you looked as though bewitched. Rage, this is called. Have you felt it since? Have you kept it bottled up inside?"

"Get off of me."

"You must miss him, to dream of him still. Yet I note, Estel, that he is no longer here and you remain. You did not leave with him for Mandos' Halls. Pretending you are gone will not make it so."

"Leave me be!"

"You might even think of your family. Your father and your brothers love you very much. It hurts them to see you slipping away and to be unable to help." A recitation; Legolas knew not what else to say. He groped for words and hoped he spoke rightly. "But, as I am told, because you are afraid of me--"

At this Estel tired of being the captive of Legolas, and he struggled, kicking and biting. Legolas moved to grab the boy's shoulders, but Estel wriggled away, throwing free the Elf's hand and scrambling to his feet. Knowing it was dishonourable and not caring, Estel placed his hands on Legolas's shoulders and threw the Elf back with a sound shove, then ran for the horses.

Legolas was quicker. Before Estel had covered five yards Legolas was there, wrestling him to the ground once again. The mortal fought, but his strength was insufficient: at last Legolas triumphed, pinning Estel to the ground. As a precaution, he rested his weight on his knee, which rest on Estel's chest. "Do you give up?" Legolas asked, willing to release the boy if he said yes.

"Never," Estel growled, and taking Legolas's knee in his hands sought to twist the limb away. This worked, but Estel was only on his feet a moment before Legolas grabbed him and held on tight. As Estel kicked and bit and struggled, Legolas lifted him and carried him toward the lake. Estel knew this trick, and struggled with more vigor but to the same end: none.

Almost pleased to do so, Legolas waded out until the water reached to his thighs, managing a fighting Estel all the while, and dropped the boy carelessly into the water. Estel closed his mouth too late, earning him a mouthful of muddy water. With all the speed he could muster he was at the surface, spitting and sputtering his mouth clear of mud. "I suppose you think yourself terribly clever for that little trick?" Estel demanded. For a moment he knelt, then added, "I suppose you think everything you do is clever just because you are an Elf, is this so?" Legolas acted without thought: he gave Estel a kicking shove and the boy fell again beneath the waters, this time catching a breath of air before the murky waters closed over his head. Legolas fished him out.

"I suppose you think everything I do is brutish, simply because I am an Elf," Legolas responded, offering his hand to Estel. At first the mortal only eyed the hand curiously, then gripped it tightly and pulled himself up. To the surprise of both, their eyes were only hardly four inches apart. The last time they met, Estel was hardly as high as Legolas's shoulder. "Let us go back to dry ground. There we might talk easier."

"I note you took your shoes off," Estel mentioned grudgingly as they trod toward the shore.

*****

Some time later, as Estel's tunic rested on a log in the sun where it might dry, the boys lay on their backs in the grass. Legolas chewed thoughtfully on an apple, and finally said, "What happened, Estel? To you."

Estel watched a cloud the shape of a dragon drift across the sky. "I could not do it anymore. Lysander. . .was gone. I saw Oswald, sometimes--Lysander's brother. He drifted for a time, but he is a child. At a time, he was my closest friend. How strange that it would be he who understood best what was happening to me, and he who listened and understood. We comforted each other, until he moved on and left me behind.

"There was more to it than only Lysander. Everything had changed; I had changed. The fact that I had. . .was responsible for someone's death plagued me. The horrors of it all haunted me. I did not want to see anyone anymore; they all either had been there and did not understand or had not been, and did not understand thusly. I felt as though I slipped from the flow of the world, as from a stream of moving bodies so easily left yet not so easily rejoined.

"Alone, it was easy enough to fade to grey. Nothing but shadow remained of me. Vaguely I was aware of the problem with my condition but had not the will to repair myself. Life was a play, and I mimed my part badly."

For a time Legolas said nothing as Estel blandly twisted strands of grass. He thought of his mother, how he had felt when she had left. The pain had not died. "Did you not care that your father and brothers worried about you?" he asked, the same question he had been asked so many years ago.

"If I pretended very strongly to be well," Estel said carefully, "they would believe me. I wanted for them to know the truth."

Fair, Legolas thought, in many ways. Elrond and the twins would not have gone unknowing for so long, and they would have been hurt that Estel thought he needed to hide his pain. Then, it had also hurt them to know and to see their attempts at helping Estel fail time and time again. Faced with such a quandary, the Elf changed the subject. "What about Elothar?" Legolas asked. "You two were nearly the same in age. Where is she now?"

"She is in Lothlorien, with Lady Galadriel, for which I am extremely grateful, to my own shame."

"You do not like her?" Legolas asked. After Estel had insisted on taking her from Eregion, when the others would have left her in the prison?

"When Elothar is in Imladris, Elladan is not. . .Elladan. He is not my brother. He no longer understands or tells jokes, but is an example. The fact that Elothar has more or less raised herself independently to adulthood does not stop Elladan from assuring that she becomes someone to be proud of. A noble pursuit, I know, but I am selfish. I want him to be my brother."

Legolas had nothing to say to this. Yes, Estel was being selfish, but only reasonably. "Hey," Legolas said at last, thinking he should say something, and rested a reassuring hand on Estel's shoulder. But he knew not what to say next. "That is all right to feel," he said.

"Well. . ." Estel met Legolas's eyes, saw that they were true, then looked at the ground. "Let's go home," he said at last. Many hours had passed, in addition to quite a few swims and lessons in hand-to-hand combat, and very few words save those spoken in recent moments. The air adopted a chill, a promising of nightfall. "Ada will worry."

Legolas nodded mutely. He understood. "Will he be angry with you, for riding the warhorse?"

"Angry?" Estel asked. "He never specifically forbade me. . ."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Good luck," he answered.

Reviewing his actions, Estel realized that in a matter of hours Legolas had so abused the boy's fears that he was no longer playing his part with dry nonchalance. Or had it simply been that this person waited only to be unlocked? That remained to be seen. As Legolas helped Estel up onto the warhorse, the younger wondered how he would act in the presence of his family. Both wondered.

*****

To be continued

MoroTheWolfGod: Or, if not now, certainly when Legolas brings him home! Oh, that kid!

Gwyn: There is no need to be rude about it. Anyway, if you're going to ask for an update, wouldn't it be more reasonable to read the entire story first?

Amlugwen: Thanks.


	6. All of Our Socalled Successful Men are S...

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof.  
  
Author's note: Major shout-out to anyone who identifies the chapter titles!  
  
*****  
  
"I can hardly believe my luck!" Estel cried, falling backwards into a pile of damp straw--damp with what, he did not consider. His euphoria at the fact that he and Legolas had managed to return Rokko and the warhorse to their stalls without being observed had made his head a bit fizzy inside.  
  
"Nor can I," Legolas replied honestly. "Now get up. Your luck may need to stretch for two to-night, Estel, and we are not yet in a safe place. Help me look after this horse!" Realizing that Legolas was correct, and that there was yet a chance of Elrond finding the boys with the warhorse. Grumbling the slightest bit, Estel rolled out of the straw and approached his friend, who had gently taken the bit from the warhorse's mouth. "Here," he said, handing Estel the metal-and-leather bridle sticky with green saliva. "Put this away while I start grooming him."  
  
With a nod Estel took the bridle and slung it over his shoulder. Carefully he rubbed it clean on his tunic, then hung it up properly. "I cannot believe my luck in this," he admitted. "If Ada knew, I would be mucking out stalls until the end of my days!" When Legolas made no reply, Estel grew worried. Slowly he became painfully aware of one very terrible fact. "I am going to be mucking out stalls for the rest of my life, aren't I?" He asked, not turning in the hope that Legolas was just playing around.  
  
"I should think so, if you are incredibly fortunate."  
  
Estel closed his eyes. There was no mistaking that voice: he was in trouble now. Biting his lip and searching for a plausible explanation, he turned. "Ada, I--"  
  
"I can explain," Legolas jumped in. Elrond, who had earlier been watching Estel expectantly, turned with great surprise to the blonde Elf, who stood before the stall door with a grooming brush in his hand.  
  
"You were responsible for this?" Elrond queried. "Legolas, I would never have expected such a thing from you. This is a surprise." Truly, his tone said, this is more of a disappointment.  
  
"No, no he was not!" Estel said. Legolas turned to him with a surprised and almost angry glare. "This was my doing, Ada, and I'll not abide Legolas taking the blame for it. I. . .I suppose I am in trouble now?" Elrond nodded to this. "Regardless of the fact that I did not have explicit permission to ride this horse, and although I have never ridden any mount more than fifteen hands nor been given permission to do so, I have also never been told not to."  
  
Elrond gave him a disbelieving look. He began to speak, thought better of it, then said without taking his eyes from Estel's face, "Legolas, if you would leave us a moment?"  
  
"Yes, of course, Lord Elrond," Legolas said. He wanted to say something reassuring to his friend, but could think of nothing, and slipped out of the stable.  
  
Estel was left facing Elrond, his stomach twisting with irrational fear. He had not feared falling into disfavor with Elrond for at least two years, and now the feeling returned tenfold. Elrond himself was torn. He could not recall Estel justifying his actions at all since Eregion, not could he recall Estel acting so outrageously stupid since that fateful journey. Did this mean, did he dare hope, that Estel was his old self again? "Estel, simply because you have not been told not to do something does not mean you are permitted to do it. Common sense should tell you this much. I had some measure of trust in you before. Now I cannot trust you without worrying for your own safety."  
  
Much to the surprise of Elrond, and of Legolas who had not granted them quite the privacy Elrond had asked him for, Estel only nodded to this.  
  
"You do not protest this?" Elrond asked. "You have no argument that I should trust you?"  
  
"No, Ada," Estel replied quietly. "I know what I did was wrong. I wish you could still trust me, Ada, but riding the warhorse was a danger to me and also to Legolas, who was with me at the time. I showed bad judgment."  
  
There were so many things Elrond wished he could say to this. It was tragically mature and utterly heartbreaking. Elrond himself had been caught in delusion, believing as Estel swirled within the numbness of the past months that his Estel was as he always had been. He had thought that Legolas could bring that person back. This desperate hope cast asunder, the Elven Lord knew not what to say. Estel had returned, but not his Estel.  
  
*****  
  
To be continued  
  
Sorry for the shortie! I've started preparations for my English final already. . .gah. . .things are a bit hectic for me so I AM DOING MY BEST WITH UPDATES. However, I must ask your patience. Actually, I've asked it before, but I'm asking again.  
  
Reviews are always appreciated! 


	7. But Mack and the Boys are Healthy and Cu...

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
"Estel?" Legolas peered into the library. "Estel, are you in here?"  
  
"Over here," the response came, and Legolas followed the sound of that voice around to the back corner of the library, where Estel stood beside a cart of books, carefully placing one on a shelf just out of his reach. Legolas moved up behind his friend and, taking the book out his hand, slipped it onto the shelf.  
  
"Your hours finished yesterday," Legolas commented. Indeed, it had not been mucking out stalls but arranging books in the library to which Estel's punitive hours were assigned. "You were not at supper last night nor breakfast this morning, are you all right?"  
  
Estel gave him a withering look. "I was tired last night," he said, crouching to slip a number of books into their proper places as he continued, "And this morning--" a book slammed against the shelf as Estel pushed it too hard "--I ate before the others--and yourself--rose." He stood, brushing the dust from his hands, and faced Legolas. "I know my hours were finished yesterday; that is beside the point."  
  
"But. . .you do not have to do this any longer," Legolas commented.  
  
"My hours are finished, my task is not complete," Estel replied. "Perhaps I did not work fast enough, it is of little consequence. This is a task that must be completed and I would have it done than spend my hours in idle."  
  
"Do you feel it your fault?" Legolas asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"That the task is incomplete."  
  
"No, simply my duty to complete it."  
  
"Duty?"  
  
"Aye, duty." Estel gathered more books and, gesticulating for Legolas to move, pushed the cart ahead of him until he had reached the row he needed. Then he began to arrange books again. "If I do not do this some other must, and I--though not bound by order--am bound by honour to do this."  
  
"Who taught you of honour?" Legolas asked. He had never heard of having to complete a punitive task by choice as being honourable.  
  
"No-one. They all told me I must be honourable, so I invented my own honour. It is my morality."  
  
Legolas was touched by his sincerity. "Estel. . .sit down a moment, I need to talk to you."  
  
"Might you talk as I work?" Estel asked. "I have yet much to do."  
  
"All right, I suppose." Legolas took a deep breath. "Estel, you do not know the reason for my coming, do you?" The mortal replied in the negative. "Please take this calmly. . .your brothers and I are returning to Eregion."  
  
"You what?" Estel dropped the books in his hands, which fell to the floor with a loud bang. "Why did no one tell me?"  
  
"It had been hoped that you would not know. It might have upset you," Legolas replied honestly, and with a pang Estel realized that the Elves saw him as a child. "We are only going as surveyors, and--"  
  
"I am going, also," Estel announced.  
  
*****  
  
Author's note: Short, I know, but I will make two promises: more and soon. 


	8. They can do what they want

For Endril. You know why.  
  
"Anyone perfect must be lying, anything easy has its cost/Anyone plain can be lovely, anyone loved can be lost" --The Barenaked Ladies, Falling for the First Time  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
In Lothlorien forest, a weather-beaten Ranger sighed and stretched. The stars had come out as he spoke, and he, too, had been carried back to other days by his tale. He felt fifteen years old again, and not in a positive manner was this so. Strider took in the faces about him. Legolas, whose familiarity with this tale kept him from being drawn terribly into it, betrayed in his expression that he had closely guarded himself, knowing what would come next, and his readiness to comfort his friend, should the need arise. Boromir's mouth hang open just slightly, and Strider suspect the son of the Steward was remembering Thorongil; so be it. The Halflings watched him intently, though none so enraptured in his telling as Peregrin. Gimli's chin rested on his axehead, and in the silence he shook himself out of the mists of the past.  
  
"And then?" It was not Peregrin, as Strider might have guessed, but Meriadoc who spoke. "What did Elrond say to him?"  
  
"Him?" Strider blinked.  
  
"To Estel," Merry prompted.  
  
"Meriadoc. . .Estel was--is--was me," Strider answered. "Did no one know? Did I not say this?" There were mumbled negations.  
  
"You mean you stole a warhorse, and fell off of it? You made yourself sick to avoid seeing Legolas?" These inquiries came from Pippin, who was greatly surprised.  
  
Strider grinned. "Did I not say your ideas of noble would change?"  
  
"I never said either of them was right," Pippin replied. "Though the warhorse, that sounds quite fun! Merry or I might have--oh." He stopped. "I think I understand now, a little." Strider nodded. "But what happened? What did Elrond say?" Though he wondered what Strider was doing known as Estel, being raised by an Elf Lord, the tale at hand was somewhat more pressing than the history of it.  
  
"Not tonight," Strider said. "That is--" he shook his head "--Elrond 'lau', I am saying not tonight. 'Lau' is, as you would know it, 'no'. 'Lau! U- nora!'" His imitation earned a few laughs. "That means, 'No! You are not going!' And because I was a very good boy I did exactly as I was told."  
  
When Legolas and Aragorn finished laughing over this last comment, the others were staring at them, never having seen the two behave in such a manner. "That was the last thing he ever did," Legolas explained to the others. "As you will see; go on with the story, Strider."  
  
"Not now," Strider shook his head. "It is too late."  
  
"No it isn't!" Pippin jumped in. "None of us is tired!"  
  
Strider smiled. "I'm sorry, Peregrin. You may not be tired, but I am." Pippin blushed.  
  
"I might tell the next part, with Strider's permission," Legolas offered. This turn attentions again to Strider. "Oh, please," Pippin said, then shushed himself.  
  
"Go ahead, Legolas," said Strider, and settled himself again on the ground. "This I am keen on hearing."  
  
*****  
  
"Lau."  
  
"For what reason?" Estel asked. "I do not in idle request to be sent from Imladris, the safety of your home. I mean to leave for a time, in respectable company, to grow and to learn. I will come back. You know you cannot keep me a child forever."  
  
"I am not trying to keep you a child forever." Estel did not see the hurt in Elrond's eyes then, but I did. With great difficulty I remained an observing, knowing when to enter a conversation and when not to. When a father realizes that he must say farewell to the youth of his children it is never easy; for Elrond, who had thought he would never again raise a child, it seemed impossible.  
  
"Then let me grow up."  
  
"Estel, you are not--" he stopped. The last time Estel had returned from Imladris, he had been a broken person, only the slightest remnants of Estel, son of Elrond, remaining. How was Elrond to tell this child, whom he loved as a son, whose pride would be bruised by such a proclamation, that the reason he could not allow him to return to Eregion was that he did not want to see him hurt? It was not to stunt his emotional growth nor to sabotauge his learning and maturity. It was simply out of love.  
  
"Adar?" There came a voice and a knock at the door.  
  
"Come in, Elladan," Elrond called.  
  
"Elrohir, as well," commented one twin or the other as they entered the study. Curiously their eyes glance from Estel to Elrond to me, and they drew their own conclusions. "We were just looking for you," Elladan said to Estel. "Where have you been this past day?"  
  
"In the library," Estel replied softly. "Shelving books."  
  
"That was supposed to be complete yesterday," Elrond stated. If there was one thing he never stood for, it was failure to comply with a punishment.  
  
"The hours were, the task was not," Estel replied simply, almost as though this was quite obvious.  
  
A change came over Elrond then. "Estel, would you leave us for a moment? I need to speak with your brothers."  
  
"And my request?" he asked before moving.  
  
"Will be considered," he promised.  
  
"All right." Estel moved quietly and closed the door behind him. Where he went then, I know not.  
  
"Shall I be off as well?" I asked, not certain, with a half-step towards the door.  
  
"No, if you would lend me but a moment of your time, Legolas?" Elrond requested, and I stayed. "I am not going to Eregion. If Estel was to accompany you, and only if, would you look after him? Would you give me your word, all of you?" He conquered himself, and did what was best for Estel. I cannot say when his heart changed, and if or for how long he regretted this decision. Eventually he must have realized that sooner or later, Estel would be on his own against the world.  
  
"Of course," Elladan replied at once.  
  
"We would keep him safe," Elrohir agreed.  
  
I was torn. Was Estel ready? His maturity, the honour philosophy, had shaped my opinion of him. But was that enough, I wondered. Swallowing, I nodded. If the twins thought so, then Estel must be old enough to handle this. "Yes, Lord Elrond, we would watch over him."  
  
"Valar be praised, now I need not worry for his safety. Yet that I will. . .Thank you, all of you, for looking after him. It hurts that they all must grow up." Realizing that this was not the proper thing to say to one's sons, Elrond looked up at them and smiled weakly. Elrohir nodded. Elladan's returning smile was equally tight.  
  
"I need to speak to Estel. If you would excuse me?" Elladan asked. His father nodded, and he left the room.  
  
*****  
  
"What followed thereafter, as by my knowledge, would not satisfy you. As our tale-spinner had fallen asleep, the story shall have to be continued on the morrow," Legolas finished his segment. There was a collective answer of unhappiness, interrupted by a mumble from Strider, who was not know to talk in his sleep.  
  
"I am not asleep," he repeated without opening his eyes. "Just comfortable." At his first words Legolas had become conscious of the fact that he was untangling Strider's hair and had stopped, though by certain reckonings this was fair as Strider had taken to resting his head on Legolas's knee as the Elf told his story.  
  
"And so please you," said Strider, righting himself, "I will tell more of this story tonight, if you are none of you too tuckered to listen."  
  
*****  
  
To be continued 


	9. They can satisfy their appetites without...

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
Estel sat beside the waters, watching as a slow leaf was carried by, this one leaf amidst an isle of similar leaves and twigs. The isle caught upon a rock and bobbed for a moment, but was quickly moved by the current. This meant absolutely nothing to Estel, he needed to focus on something, on anything, and the leaf sufficed. 'Perhaps,' he thought, 'I ought to feel I am the little leaf. I do not feel this way.'  
  
After a moment, Estel became conscious of someone beside him and lifted his head. "Muriel." She stared into his eyes, settled into a crouch nearby. Muriel had changed little in the past year; she had not even decided to wear her hair a different way, and now her long braid snaked its way down her back. Though not particularly a close friend of Estel's, she was kind to him and quick to defend him, and, he found, suspiciously easy to talk to.  
  
"What's bothering you?" she asked. "You look upset."  
  
"Eregion," Estel muttered, turning his gaze back to the waters. The trees whispered behind them, and gooseflesh rose on Estel's bare arms. Why he had chosen to wear a short tunic he did not know--then he remembered, today was for library work. Muriel put an arm around his shoulders, thinking she understood. She, too, had been in Eregion one year ago and she, too, had been greatly changed by it. "Not that, Muriel. My brothers and Legolas are going back, and I want to accompany them."  
  
"Why would you want to return to such a wretched place?" Muriel asked, awed, hazel eyes growing wide. "We know you are brave Estel, you have nothing to prove to anyone."  
  
"This is not about proving," Estel replied, "this is about healing."  
  
For a moment Muriel swished the words in her mouth as one might swish water to expel the taste of vomit, then she spoke, "Estel. . .I do not think you need to go to Eregion to heal. You simply must accept it. The rest of us, we are haunted, also, but we have moved on. We are moving onwards. So must you. You can heal here as well as in Eregion."  
  
Estel snapped back at her, "What do you know about it? Did you see your best friend killed, did you? Did you kill anyone yourself, did you, Muriel?"  
  
Taken aback, Muriel was silent. Then she responded, "No, but that hardly means I did not lose anyone! Elemmiire cannot speak anymore Estel, think of him! Luinil died, by the Valar! And Karnil lost his twin brother! And we all lost Lysander." These last words were said slowly, over-enunciated and in an ugly tone. Swallowing her anger, Muriel repeated gently, "We all lost Lysander. We all suffered his loss. We all miss Luinil, especially Karnil, and Elemmiire wishes he could speak again. I am sorry for your loss, but we all have suffered. You cannot cling to your sorrows for ever."  
  
"You know not what you say," Estel replied. "Leave me be."  
  
"Estel--" she tried in her most caring tone. She never meant to hurt him or offend him.  
  
"Leave me!" he shouted, and Muriel turned and scurried back through the trees. Estel felt more alone than ever now: not only had he offended the closest thing he had to a friend, even the birds seemed to have abandoned him now. Sadly, he knelt over the river waters and splashed two cupped handfuls of the numb, clean water over his face, dribbles running onto his tunic and some into his hair. Opening his eyes, Estel caught sight of his reflection and was not displeased. Though angry, he was not flushed, though he was dripping wet.  
  
"Estel?"  
  
"Muriel, I--" Estel replied, but catching the reflection in the water stopped and turned, rising. "I thought you were Muriel," he explained. "I apologize."  
  
"That is all right," Elladan assured him. "It took me a time to find you, Estel; you were not in your bedchamber, nor the library nor the stables. I was beginning to worry!"  
  
Estel smiled to reassure his brother. "I just needed a little time to myself," he replied.  
  
"It does not sound as though you received this."  
  
"No, I did not."  
  
"Shall I leave you to your thoughts?"  
  
Estel considered for a moment. He would like to be on his own for a bit more, but then, would it be to his benefit? Would it not be best for him to go back to the hustle-and-bustle he might find, if he looked, to the actions that might keep him considering a negation until it was given? Who was to say, save for Elrond, whether or no Estel might go to Eregion? Not to worry. Left to his own devices, Estel would drown himself in as much sorrow and self-pity as possible, and this was no admirable trait.  
  
And furthermore, was this truly as he thought of his brother? Did he truly favor his own unhappy loneliness for the love and comfort of Elladan's mere presence? Would he offend the Elf, after everything, by telling him to please go away?  
  
The boy shook his head, and a smile appeared on Elladan's face. Estel moved slowly, until he felt Elladan walking beside him, then matched his stride to the Elf's. There was nothing ill between them, and so contented was Estel by the feelings of love they shared that he hardly noticed when Elladan slipped a protective arm over his little brother's shoulders.  
  
"Elladan, I have been thinking. The letters I was sent from the others, just after Eregion? I have not replied to any of them, have I?" he asked.  
  
"No, I do not believe so. No one minds," Elladan hurriedly assured his brother.  
  
"That was very rude of me."  
  
"Given the circumstances," Elladan tried, but Estel shook his head.  
  
"No, Elladan. I owe quite a few people a visit. These are debts I shall repay today."  
  
Elladan nodded.  
  
*****  
  
To be continued  
  
Gwyn: There wasn't a chapter nine. Now there is!  
  
Star-Stallion: Not telling! I'm offering a major shout-out to anyone who figures it out.  
  
Author's note: Two things. First, major shout-out to anyone who figures out where my chapter titles come from. Second, I know my chapters are short, but pointing that out actually won't make them any longer. 


	10. They could get it

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any recognizable characters and/or places thereof  
  
Author's note: I always imagined Imladris as having a society not unlike a kibbutz, so I have made some assumptions as to the way of life there. If these assumptions are terribly off I'm sorry, let me know and I will fix them.  
  
*****  
  
The elflings setting out for Eregion numbered nine. Two among them were sent back early and never reached the fateful place. A further two died in the country. One returned who did not leave among them; she now stayed in Lothlorien. This left five visits Estel needed pay, five tales to end.  
  
Estel knelt and, taking a small knife, opened the edge of his mattress. Carefully he withdrew the letters received nearly a year ago, and setting aside those of his brothers and Elothar, he unfolded the remaining four lengths of parchment. One was signed Muriel, another Naarie, one Karnil and the last Wilwarindi. Elemmiire had not written: at the time, he had been unconscious.  
  
Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Estel read the letters, one after another. "Insufficient it seems to pen my emotions". . ." I treated you like dirt". . ." you saved my life". . ." You would have laughed". . ." we must speak in person". . ." It would be nice to know you better, and perhaps someday". . . how kind you were to me". . .  
  
"Who are you?" Estel whispered. As an observer he had known them years ago, been familiar with their particular speech inflections and the beats to which they walked, but for a year no one had come to see him and he had been to see none of them, so aside from the occasional incident he had seen and heard from none of them, save Muriel. Now, taking a deep breath, Estel realized that he was not visiting one-time acquaintances but walking into a lion's den.  
  
"Elemmiire to begin with," he resolved, "that visit will be brief. Naarie, then, and Karnil after. . ." Though he did not say so aloud, Estel had no intention of seeking out Muriel. Immature though he knew this was, there seemed no reason to further their conflict.  
  
One advantage to a communal dining hall, Estel had discovered long ago, was the fact that between meals, the large space proved quite the haven for any person not wishing to enjoy the outdoors. Though Elves rarely had such thoughts, Estel checked the hall nevertheless, and not at all to his surprise found it empty.  
  
With a shrug he left the hall and the indoors altogether, and searched the many grass- and flower-grown plots in the general vicinity. As luck would have it, he did find someone, but no one he sought: he found Glorfindel, recording something in a leather-bound book.  
  
"Good day, Glorfindel," Estel said, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking from his heels to his toes. Searching the gardens and lawns of Imladris could take hours, and so Estel sought to explore Glorfindel's knowledge of his peers' locations.  
  
The blonde-headed elf raised his head to see the young boy, and replied with suspicion, "Good day to you, Estel. Do you seek something?"  
  
"I seek someone," Estel replied. "Have you by any chance seen Elemmiire, Glorfindel? Or Naarie or Karnil?"  
  
"No, I am afraid I have not," Glorfindel replied, and Estel answered quickly, "Thank you, Glorfindel; have a nice day--" and turned to leave.  
  
"Wait a moment, child," Glorfindel called, and Estel returned his attentions to the elf. "I did, however, see Muriel, as you may wish to know."  
  
"I was--" Estel began, but Glorfindel cut him off as though he had not opened his mouth at all.  
  
"The poor girl was nearly in tears, Estel, she was hysterical. I do not know nor wish to know what you said to her, but I see no decent reason you should not apologize. You know better."  
  
Estel groaned inwardly, but said to Glorfindel, "Yes, Glorfindel, I will speak to her later."  
  
"You do that," Glorfindel replied. "Now go on, Estel. Wilwarindi, I believe, has found a nice history tome to drown himself in and taken it to a private spot on the grass."  
  
"Thank you, Glorfindel!" Estel replied, and had begun to leave when a thought occurred to him. "Glorfindel? If this is a secret place, how do you know of it?"  
  
Glorfindel gave him a withering look, then explained calmly, "Every one has a secret life. Surely you do not think I spend all my hours at work? Wilwarindi may tell you whatever he wishes; I shall keep my silence."  
  
Laughing to himself, Estel wandered off, pondering. Where ever Wilwarindi was, it would be a secluded spot, but one filled with sunshine--or so Estel presumed, based on his knowledge of Elven nature--and not too far from the library. Lost in thought, Estel hardly heard a warning called out to him nor noticed the noise until he felt a pain, then a tingling numbness about his ear.  
  
"Oh, no! We are truly sorry, we tried to warn you--Estel?"  
  
Looking up, the boy saw the piercing blue eyes and raven hair unmistakably belonging to Naarie, who gazed in awe at Estel, then looked over his shoulder and called, "Karnil, it is Estel!"  
  
Neither Karnil nor Naarie was particularly tall with respect to their race, making them only a bit taller than Estel, an awkward situation for one accustom to looking up to see others. "I was just looking for the two of you," Estel said, looking from one to the other, "to reply to your letters."  
  
"Letters? Oh! Our letters! Yes, I remember now. How have you been, Estel?" Karnil asked. "We have seen little of you in long enough."  
  
For a moment Estel's throat stuck, then he blurted out the first thing he thought, which was, "I'm sorry about Luinil." At once he regretted his words, and Karnil's face darkened as though cast beneath a shadow, but the shadow passed quickly away.  
  
"I will never stop missing my brother," Karnil stated, "but there is no reason in dwelling on his passing to the Halls of Waiting. Someday we will be together again, Valar willing, but a broken heart did not take my own life, so I go on."  
  
There the conversation ground to a halt, and Estel ventured, "Eregion. . ." Then words failed him.  
  
Naarie rested a hand on Estel's shoulder. "Eregion was terrible," he spoke quietly. "We try to move forward from it, not dwell upon it." Though this seemed an almost frightened whisper, Estel saw in Naarie's eyes his true intents. Muriel hand spoken with the boys, warned them of Estel's state. So be it.  
  
"Of course," said Estel with a nod. A deeper truth in Naarie's eyes read that the incident was over, and he truly had grown away from it. Karnil, too, showed this: only the loss of his brother hindered his contentment. "I- -I shall see you about, then, I suppose?"  
  
Naarie and Karnil nodded. "Have a wonderful day, Estel!" Naarie said, his own cheerful fare-thee-well.  
  
"You too," Estel muttered, watching as the two took their ball, which had earlier smacked the mortal on the ear, and returned to their game. So they had moved on, they had grown out of an experience he could hardly face. For a long time Estel watched Naarie and Karnil play, denying an invitation to join them, then, as the sun set, headed for bed. He was not tired, but wearied.  
  
*****  
  
To be continued 


	11. They could ruin their lives and get mone...

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
Author's note: I was having a lot of trouble writing this chapter, so I ended up doing a real short one severely lacking in quality. My apologies, but at least this will move the story on.  
  
*****  
  
"When I woke up this morning, my heart felt heavy with despair. I did not want to face the day. Left to my own devices, I might have lain for hours watching shadows move across the floor, judging the hour by their length and breadth.  
  
"When I woke up this morning, I had nothing to look forward to but months of solitary contemplation, bereft of my brothers and their companion. It seemed a lost cause, going on with life. I feared I would be left behind, forced to remain a child for ever.  
  
"When I woke up this morning, I believed I would never be seen as an adult or an equal." Estel looked to Elrohir, Elladan and Legolas each individually, all illuminated by the light of their fire, plumes of smoke rising in a twisting pattern to the deep night sky. Stars appeared here and there, not enough space without one star to place the nail of a finger. "How glad I am that this belief was wrong."  
  
Their camp was but a small clearing, but it felt as comfortable as home, warmed and lighted by the fire, the smells of nature everywhere, but most importantly filled with love and good fellowship. Nearby their horses rested. Their packs had been set against trees and their bedrolls placed open upon the ground. The valley of Imladris had been left behind, but only temporarily.  
  
Elladan and Elrohir smiled at the boy, unsure of what to say. Legolas observed, feeling not at all a part of this. "Not too old, I hope," Elladan said at last, "to remain our little brother."  
  
"No," Estel replied. He reached out beside the fire and Elladan took his hand. "Not yet too old for that. Never too old," he promised, smiling but solemnly.  
  
For a time none had any words to speak, then Elrohir at last spoke, "Who will take the first watch tonight? Elladan, I think, ought to, for he is eldest."  
  
Elladan agreed readily, and the others, wishing him a peaceful watch, lay down to sleep. Estel found himself smiling as he gazed upward at the stars, feeling immensely pleased for reasons he could not explain, immensely powerful despite his scrawny weakness. Sleep came to him as a rider on the wind, snatching away the spirit of Estel and leaving his body lying there on the ground, smiling foolishly.  
  
When just over two hours had passed, Elladan shook his twin awake. "Elrohir, it is your watch," he whispered, hoping not to disturb the others. The distant look that came to elves in their sleep disappeared from Elrohir's eyes.  
  
"Thanks you for waking me," he said, raising himself from the warm covers.  
  
"Come. There is something I must show you, which I do not wish the others to know," Elladan spoke, and Elrohir nodded, understanding the want of secrecy. The twins moved to Elladan's pack, and the elder drew from within a roll of leather. He looked once over his shoulder to be certain the other two slept soundly. Satisfied, Elladan turned back to his brother.  
  
Unnoticed, Estel opened his eyes again and listened intently. ". . .Glorfindel gave this to me, today in the stables before we left," Elladan whispered. "They are well crafted, look at this."  
  
Estel shifted, trying to see what Elladan held. Carefully he inched himself forward, being as quiet a possible--snap! A dry twig the mortal had not noticed buckled with his weight, loud enough, or so it seemed, to awaken anyone within ten miles. Estel winced.  
  
Elladan whirled, rolling the leather covering into a scroll. "Estel! You were listening in!"  
  
"Only a little," he replied. "What is it, Elladan?"  
  
"Nothing, child," Elrohir answered. "Go back to sleep. You will take your watch in a few hours and had best be rested for it. Go on, sleep!"  
  
Estel frowned, but rolled obediently onto his back. "Yes, Elrohir," he muttered, closing his eyes again. Elladan and Elrohir watched the boy until his breathing became deep and regular. Then they continued in hushed tones.  
  
"I will show you later and explain more at a safer time," Elladan promised.  
  
Elrohir nodded. "Estel should not know of such things. With any luck he will not learn of this."  
  
"I do not think luck will be with us in this matter, Brother."  
  
"Aye. Then Glorfindel's precaution will be much need indeed!"  
  
Elladan did not move to sleep himself but watched Estel for a moment longer. "He is growing up, isn't he, Elrohir?"  
  
"He is, and in many ways has. Nothing has ever been quite easy for him, has it? When his emotions are more controlled, he will be a fine man. Already in him I see this man emerge from the ashes of the boy." Elrohir watch his brother's chest rise and fall. "Tomorrow night, we will change the manner of the shifts of watch. Four and one half hours you will watch, then four and one half hours I. Legolas and Estel may elect one or the other to take watch first of them."  
  
"Aye." Elladan nodded. "I think this works better." It would benefit them, having a full night's sleep one night and a half the next. A broken sleep every night would slowly wear them down, but Elrohir's proposal would serve to condition them.  
  
At last Elladan laid down to sleep, leaving Elrohir awake beside the fire. The night passed uneventfully, perhaps the most exciting moment of Elrohir's watch being the moments he spent adding fuel to the fire to keep it burning, glancing at Estel to be sure the boy was warm. Perhaps he had grown up, but Elrohir had grown accustom to looking after his brother. That sort of instinct, it did not go away over night.  
  
Elrohir woke Legolas, and a few hours later Legolas woke Estel. "I am sorry to do this to you," Legolas said. Estel kept to himself that he did not mind. Dawn was coming quickly upon them, and that time was the most beautiful in all the day. It was a moment to savor, a moment to truly live. Being awake at dawn to see the sky turn the color first of ash, then slowly onwards until the sun rose, and the sky reached the peachy zenith of its radiance.  
  
Being awake at dawn made the day worth experiencing. Everything suddenly fell into experience at this magical time, not as events but merely experiences, and in that moment of rapture one knows invincibility.  
  
It is for this that Estel was glad to be grant last watch. Life looked better from inside a peach. 


	12. Mack has qualities of genius

"The very fear that makes you want to die/Is the same as what keeps you alive" --The Barenaked Ladies, War on Drugs  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
Author's note: Chapters will be short for a while. I'm warning everyone of that ahead of time.  
  
*****  
  
The nature of watch shifts changed as the trip progressed. One night Elladan and Elrohir would take shifts of four hours each and sleep four hours each, making up for the loss the next night with a full night's sleep when Legolas and Estel took their shifts.  
  
"Are you sure this will not wear us down?" Legolas asked of Estel, who had designed the new watch system.  
  
"Quite," the mortal boy replied. "On horseback, we will spend not more than a week riding total, and should we ride through the pressure our bodies will adjust. . .I only hope there will be enough time for it to work properly. It seems all right; the time must be nearly up." Estel had lost track of the days.  
  
Elrohir, who rode behind Legolas on the trial, added in, "Yes, Estel; however did you manage the same on foot? That is some feat!" Because there was space enough for only one horse to ride at a time, the boys had formed a line: Elladan leading, followed by Estel, then Legolas and Elrohir bringing up the rear. They chattered gaily as they rode through along the dishonestly jolly-seeming path, the light pleasantly dappled through the leaves. Why, they felt themselves on a ride of pleasure rather than of business!  
  
"Some calluses, I should rather say!" Estel called back in response. The twins chuckled appreciatively, but Legolas did not, for to him Estel did not joke but blocked. Even the elf, having spent little time around the boy, could see clearly how badly affect he had been by the events of Eregion. What had happened to Estel during the run? Legolas could not say. He remembered trying to curb the boy's passion, tripping him over when he refused to stop running, but as for what had overcome the boy who could say?  
  
And then, to the great surprise of all, Estel shakily took in a deep breath and said, "They took my family away from me. What else could I do? I would have given my life for your safety. . .so I ran. Looking back, I remember fires burning in my legs, hurting so I felt the muscles would snap, yet as I ran I felt nothing but need. . .I knew if I failed, if you. . .if anything happened to you. . .it would have been my fault. How could I ever hold up my head again if anything should happen? I did nothing special. I. . ." His voice had been dwindling in strength throughout his speech and now dropped below a whisper. "I almost failed. Almost I never saw you again."  
  
Blood rushed to Estel's cheeks and he hung his head, biting his lip to keep back tears. It was true. He had nearly failed, nearly caused such terrible things to happen. "Oh, Eru," Estel gasped. "Halt!" he cried to the riders behind him. Legolas and Elrohir pulled their reins sharply, watching Estel. The mortal leapt from his horse and fell to his knees beside in to dirt, clutching his stomach as he retched.  
  
Both elves moved to aid the child, but Elladan, who had by tacit agreement been appointed leader of their party, held up his hand and slowly dismounted. He knelt beside Estel and gently pulled loose strands of dark hair away from the boy's face. Cautiously Estel raised his face to gaze at his brother, and Elladan smiled tightly, though he was worried by the pale hue of Estel's skin and the beads of sweat rolling down the boy's cold cheeks. "Elladan," Estel croaked, then quickly shifted to lean over the bushes and was sick again.  
  
Legolas and Elrohir looked on as Elladan rubbed his brother's back and Estel was so copiously ill they were sure he lost more food than he had taken in. The two horses, Elladan's and Estel's, that had been left unattended snorted and stamped, but did not move on. Elladan looked up at the two onlookers. "Water?" he asked them. As he said this Estel whimpered quietly and fought harder against his tears. "Shh, Estel." Elladan held his brother against his chest and petted him to calm him. "Shh, it is all right, Estel, there is no reason to cry."  
  
What Estel said next was muffled by reluctance, but sounded suspiciously like an apology. Elrohir and Legolas joined them now, one of them pressing a container of water into Elladan's hands. "Estel?" Elladan asked gently. "Will you try to drink this, Estel?"  
  
Elladan pressed the container against Estel's lips and tilted it that some water dribbled into Estel's mouth, though for the most part the liquid slithered down his chin. "We must go on. Can you ride, Estel?"  
  
"Of course," Estel replied. He was shaking as he rose to his feet and nearly fell, but ignored the dots dancing before his eyes. "I am not ill, I am fine."  
  
The elves exchanged glances. Elladan gazed about him. "The sun will set soon. As soon as there is a reasonable place for a fire, we will stop for the night," he decreed.  
  
"Elladan, please, not on my account--!"  
  
Elladan interrupted, "Estel, Brother, listen to me! We are all tired, but most importantly, we are nearing Eregion. Watch will be taken in pairs tonight. This is on the account of us all. Now go and mount your horse; there is yet ground to cover before we sleep."  
  
Their earlier trot was curbed to a slow jog, hardly above a walk, until at last Elladan decreed that the space would be adequate for a fire. Without comment Estel began clearing a firepit of debris, Legolas set out the bedrolls and the twins saw to the horses. After so many evenings, their routine had become accustom. But this evening Legolas had a plan. Constantly he watched out of the corner of his eye, and when the twins had taken the horses to water at a nearby stream Legolas said without turning around, "Estel? Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
Estel grabbed a medium-sized rock from the pile he had gathered and set it on the ground beside another rock of similar size. In this manner he lined his firepit. For long moments he was silent, so absorbed in the firepit that he did not notice the approach of Elladan and Elrohir. "When we spoke of the run, I remembered the reason for it. I know I lost my mind, and this I am ashamed of. But I was so frightened! Had anything happened to Elladan and Elrohir, it would have been my fault. Why was I not looking out for them? Why did I not protect them better? If they had been hurt. . .In my head I saw visions, I saw my brothers suffer and I saw them. . .I. . .they were like my father. My--" Estel's voice broke "--my real father. And I was so ashamed, because what if those thoughts, what if they came to pass, just because I thought them?"  
  
Suddenly Estel invoked the name of the Lady of the Stars and leapt to his feet. Bouncing on his heels, he gazed in the direction of the river and was greatly relieved to see his brothers coming back to their camp with the horses, having paused upon hearing Estel's speech and continued as he finished. Sighing, not quite convinced, Estel dropped to his knees and continued forming the ring of stone around the firepit.  
  
Legolas and Elrohir sat first watch that night. "Is something wrong with him, Elrohir?" Legolas asked, glancing at Estel. Though this was not his first encounter with the mortal, the lack of pressure put upon Estel now and his severe depression made him practically a different person.  
  
Elrohir poked at the fire with a stick. "No," he replied. "When Estel was very small he saw his father die and his mother left him to our care. For a time he would shout and cry whenever Ada was not with him, sure that once someone passed from his sight, that person would never come back. Sometimes he has spells, although we thought they had passed. I supposed everyone must have a relapse sometime. He is well. I only wish I had realized earlier!"  
  
Legolas rested his hand on his friend's shoulder. "You know as well as I that all hurts mend in time. Elrohir. . ." Legolas had a sudden idea. "Do you remember when my mother passed to Mandos' Halls, Elrohir?"  
  
Elrohir nodded. "'Twould be difficult to forget. Few events have ever frightened me so as that."  
  
"I keep one of the tunics with me always. Perhaps Estel would benefit having the garment?"  
  
Elrohir knew of what Legolas spoke: Lady Celebrían and Legolas had sewn the tunics together, a number of garments patched with grey over the heart. "Surely you would not part with such an item!"  
  
Legolas smiled sadly. He formed a fist and rested the hand over his heart. "I miss Nana, but I no longer weep for her."  
  
*****  
  
To be continued  
  
Reviews always are appreciated! 


	13. They're all very clever if they want som...

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
Four days later, they reached the city. Estel felt his jaw drop. Such a municipality in only a year! A true feat, that was. All that was visible was the great stone wall surrounding the city, what a protection! Yet. . .where was the gate?  
  
The four stood uncertainly for a moment, gazing about them. "Shall we ride round the perimeter?" Legolas suggested.  
  
"Perhaps. . .it is odd, though: one gate of the old cities faced east and the other west, looking upon each other. It leads me to wonder where the gate is positioned in this obstruction," Elrohir said. A wind blew over them from the west, rattling the grasses at their feet.  
  
"North or South, I would imagine; we are to the East, whence faced the gate of the eld city of the Elves." Elladan's eloquent speech was somewhat taken away from by his cry then of, "Estel!"  
  
The mortal had not, as the others, been looking up at the wall but been squinting that he might clearer see something, an abnormality if you will, further down the wall. Now he turned his horse and trotted towards what appeared to be either a cleft in the wall or a great shadow. "Estel--" Elladan began to call the boy in, but Elrohir laid a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"He has found it," Legolas said, his face gleaming with the same pride the twins felt. The rift they only now realized had existed closed itself up. "Come on!"  
  
True to this proclamation, Estel had found the gate to the city, realizing that the wall was indeed broken! Here one segment ran over another, a great gate of wood and metal fastenings standing between the two endings. Estel dismounted and, holding the reins of his horse in one hand, examined the workmanship. Nothing short of brilliant it was, and so he had expected. A door built in such a place! It would prove difficult to truncheon down, that was certain.  
  
"Well done, Estel!"  
  
The three joined him at the door, an awkward process. Now Estel saw that one horse might ride abreast here. If any army sought to invade this fortress, they would be killed ere they set foot within the city. "Go on," Legolas said, nudging Estel. He answered with a questioning look. "Knock on the door," said Legolas.  
  
Amazed, Estel took in his hands the great knocker attached to the doorfront. Nearly he required to hands to lift it but nay! This the boy would have done as easily as any, and mustered up his strength. CLANG! The sound issued of steel upon steel. Almost at once a shutter was drawn aside and a face appeared. "Who are you and what do you seek?" asked the Man whose face was that in the window.  
  
Estel began to answer but Elladan stepped in, "We come from Elrond of Rivendell to observe the progression of the erection of a dwelling-place in Eregion."  
  
The face disappeared, then another appeared, presumably that of a superior. Could it be coincidence that this was an Elf? Surely it was nothing more. "Have you any documentation of this claim?"  
  
Estel looked to Elladan, who drew from within his cloak a sealed letter and passed it through the small window. Further muttering ensued from behind the door, then something like an angry order. "It will be just one moment," said the Elf, "until you are permitted entry." Then the window was slammed shut.  
  
"Well, that was rather. . .abrupt," Legolas commented.  
  
Estel wanted to ask why Elladan had shoved him aside like that, why he hadn't even given him a chance, but, just as he had scrapped together sufficient courage, the door to the city creaked open. Standing in the space through which they should all have to pass to enter the city was an Elf. He, the Elf, wore robes of a regal yet somber grey sweeping low enough to show no skin between the garment and his coal-black shoes, yet high enough to retain from grazing the floor. He smiled, and Estel felt his stomach writhing. That was no true smile.  
  
The Elf bowed and the company bowed in response. Estel fought to keep himself from trembling. At the hands of this Elf he had taken more than his share of abuse. Memories banished for the past twelvemonth resurface, and Estel felt sick.  
  
Around him, the world continued as usual. "Well met, and under better circumstance thankfully!" the Elf spoke in such a pleasant manner. "Welcome to the Prince of Mirkwood and the sons of Elrond, Legolas, Elladan, Elrohir, and. . ." he faltered, then said, "Faith."  
  
"Hope," Legolas snapped. Then he had seen it too! Or had he? Estel knew that the Elf had made no mistake, simply intentionally offended them. Something in his eyes, or his manner, the boy distrusted. Either Legolas saw this, too, or his memories coloured his image of the Elf.  
  
"Of course," replied the Elf, as though grateful for this enlightenment, smiling at Estel in what the boy took to be an intentionally foul manner.  
  
Elladan replied for them, "And well met to you, Pellatal."  
  
*****  
  
To be continued! 


	14. They just know the nature of things too ...

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
Estel stood outside the door to the quarters assigned to Legolas. Though they had insisted that separate quarters were completely unnecessary, Pellatal--smiling all the while--had given each member of the party his own space. Estel and Legolas were in next-door rooms with the twins across the corridor. "It's Estel."  
  
"Come in."  
  
The boy entered and closed the door behind him, not at all trusting these walls to be without ears and eyes. Legolas was half in and half out of a clean blue tunic. "You heard it, too," Estel stated, without giving Legolas so much as a moment to pull on his tunic fully. "You heard it in his voice when he called me Faith."  
  
"What did I hear?" Legolas asked.  
  
"Stop it, I know you heard it!" Estel snapped. "I'm sorry. It's just. . .the twins did not hear it, I know it, and you. . .you seemed to have heard that hate."  
  
The elven prince turned to his young friend and was surprised to see Estel's eyes trailing about the room. Not such a brave warrior after all, Estel felt afraid! He did not want to be left alone! He would be brave, though. Legolas knew that he would. He did not placate Estel, only told the truth due to the boy's fear--and because Legolas did not wish to be alone, either. "I heard it," he answered. "I fear for you. He hates you."  
  
These words did not hurt Estel, for they contained a truth he knew already. "He hates Men," Estel answered. "What are we to do, Legolas?"  
  
"You tell me," answered the elf. This was not his battle, and he knew that. Here Legolas played the role of onlooker. Elladan and Elrohir were the emissaries meant for this job, but Estel would matter more. Legolas saw that, though he knew not how.  
  
For a moment he considered, then, "Either we tell Elladan and have him on his guard or we do not and hope for the best. I think it best we tell him."  
  
Legolas nodded. "Go on then, and tell him." With a resigned nod Estel turned from the door, and Legolas's heart wrenched as though he had kicked a puppy then turned the animal out into the snow. "Estel--" What was he doing? He had never given out advice. Fine moment to begin it! The boy was looking to Legolas now, awaiting his words, needing them. What, precisely, did he need? "Estel, I am on your side here. There is something I wanted to give you but had not the moment for. . ."  
  
Curious, Estel watched as Legolas drew his knapsack up and hunted through it with a general lack of success. At last he pulled forth a somewhat rumpled, very worn tunic. "I want you to have this. It may not fit." Feeling suddenly quite silly, Legolas shoved the garment into Estel's hands.  
  
"Thank you. What is it?" Estel ventured.  
  
The answer came, "It is a tunic. I, er, that is. . .when my mother. . .when she--" Legolas had trouble saying the word, but managed, "when she died, I ran away to Imladris. Lady Celebrían helped me sew grey patches over the heart of a few old tunics. I had lost all but the clothes on my back, so that at one time belonged to the twins. You should have it."  
  
Estel looked up to meet the eyes of his friend, a difference of only half an inch or so, not sure what to say. Legolas started. "Oh, no. I've gone and put my foot in it, haven't I?"  
  
"No. . .no, I know of Lady Celebrían," Estel answered. "I just hardly know what to say, this is. . .this is a legacy."  
  
"Don't be stupid, it is only a tunic," Legolas said. He did not want to have a heartfelt moment, not just now at any rate. "Look, the point of these is for strength. When I was younger it helped. . .an awful lot."  
  
"I don't know what to say--"  
  
"Then shut up," Legolas answered not unkindly. "You should wear that when you speak to Elladan--he probably will not remember, but it will give you strength."  
  
~~~  
  
"Elladan, might I speak with you a moment?" Pellatal did not leave after showing the others heir quarters but returned to speak with the one he knew they followed.  
  
Elladan was wary. He knew Pellatal capable of terrible things, and for this would shut him out for ever, but then, Pellatal had once been his close friend. Perhaps, after all, there was goodness in him. "Of course, come in," Elladan answered, holding open the door for his friend.  
  
"Thank you. I will be blunt: there is trouble here. I have seen you fight."  
  
"No." Elladan was shaking his head before the words left Pellatal's mouth. A knot formed and twisted in his stomach. "I am done with that business, I am not a mercenary." And yet. . .and yet. . .Elladan's memories of the event which Pellatal referred to were blurred. . .so much blood. . .so much death. . .A scream rose in his throat, but he choked it down.  
  
Pellatal saw his friend's struggle. "Of course, I do not mean a physical war, Elladan! I ask only your support. Come, we are friends, are we not?"  
  
Beads of sweat climbed down Elladan's neck. "We are friends," he answered.  
  
"I should not have brought this matter before you quite yet; rest now and refresh yourself. After you have seen the city and had a night's sleep, perhaps we will approach the topic again. Peace to you, Elladan."  
  
"Peace to you," he muttered to the closing door. At the thump of the door against its frame Elladan collapsed onto the bed. He recalled those awful days. . .so much violence. . .he remembered slamming doors and his fight with Pellatal. . .but why? Seeing his old friend once more, Elladan felt kinship stronger than anger. Why was I angry? He asked himself this again and again.  
  
A knock at the door interrupted Elladan's troubled mind. "Come in," he called out, getting to his feet so as not to appear defeated.  
  
Estel entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. "Elladan, I-- Elladan, what is? What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing. Don't trouble yourself."  
  
He meant no offense by it, but, being young, Estel knew only of pushing people away in the hope that they would fight you, running to be caught. "You look distressed."  
  
Elladan snapped at him in reply, "That is my business and not yours, boy!"  
  
Estel jumped. This wasn't like Elladan! "Sorry," he muttered.  
  
The Elf also was shocked at his behaviour. What was he doing? This was Estel he was speaking to, his own brother! Or, a slippery voice in the back of his mind argued, is he? A mortal and an--what are you, Elladan? When will you choose? You cannot spend your life half and half. Sides must be taken.  
  
Elladan shook his head. Where had that come from? "Do you need something, Estel?" he asked.  
  
"I came to tell you that I do not think it wise to trust Pellatal. He is dangerous."  
  
Elladan looked at the boy. It was all he could do not to shout at him. Why should I trust you over him? "I know, Estel. Leave me be." Estel faltered, but Elladan nodded at the door and he left. The peredhil threw himself onto the bed, ashamed of the way he had treated Estel, half of him feeling too kind and the other half not at all kind enough. He is my brother. . .he is a mortal. . .I love him. . .I hate him. . .  
  
He wanted to scream. Why was this happening? Why was everything coming back- -the blood, those eyes. . .oh, those eyes! His eyes! Elladan fell into a troubled sleep, as Estel ran to speak to Legolas. Something was wrong, very wrong!  
  
*****  
  
To be continued! 


	15. It has always seemed strange to me:

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
Later that afternoon, a most quiet and solemn group followed Pellatal through a textile production factory. Estel had intended to say something to Elladan, but the elf's cold eyes threw him away at once. The half-elf remained confused for the moment. Elrohir was not with them, having fallen asleep earlier, and no one had the heart to rouse him. Legolas simply sought alternate topics to discuss. "Why do the workers here where gloves?" he inquired.  
  
"They wear the gloves to protect them from the staining dyes. This one," he motioned a dark green at this, "has qualities to remain on the skin for hours before drying. Only when dry may it be taken off; when wet. . .well, it simply does not come away," Pellatal answered.  
  
"Ah," said Legolas.  
  
Estel looked around. The men who stirred the vats of dye seemed to be tinted green--from the steam, he reflected. At their respective stations people worked dying cloth, some mixing the dyes, some applying it with the cloths and others wrapping the cloth into bolts. The process appeared quite proficient.  
  
As Pellatal walked through with an air of importance, a boy probably only a year or two older than Estel bustled forward with a pot, much like a soup pot, tripped and sloshed dye of such concentration it seemed nearly black over Pellatal's hands, and onto the tunic of Elladan, who stood beside him.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir!" he answered at once. "It was an accident!"  
  
"Accident? Have you any idea who this is? They come from Rivendell! Your accident may cause us an alliance. See you have no more accidents," Pellatal snapped. "My hands will be this wretched color until past sunset thanks to your clumsiness!"  
  
"Yes, sir. I-It will not happen again," the boy stammered, then took off across the room. Estel watched him go. Why had Pellatal been so angry? Sure, his hands would be green, but what the matter in it? The affliction would last only a few hours. Telling the boy off so severely seemed un called-for.  
  
"Come. Let us leave this place before any further. . .incidents. . .occur," Pellatal said, and led them, green handed and red faced, out into the streets.  
  
Dusk had fallen, and it was becoming difficult to see. "You have seen enough for one day, I think," Pellatal said, and upon their agreement began leading the group back to their allocated residing spaces. Estel thought him a bit pushy, not asking them so much as insisting, but then, he hardly wanted to say anything. Pellatal had left him alone and this suited him just fine.  
  
In fact, at the tip-tapping sounds of bootlaces against cobblestones, Estel gladly knelt down and took his time pulling tight the laces, then forming a perfect bow and pulling that equally secure. He could find his way back without a guide. What was the point, anyone? No one wanted him around, that much was obvious enough.  
  
Estel straightened and saw that the others had disappeared. That, he decided, was just as well. He neither wanted nor needed company at the moment, and as his temper was foul from denial this pleased him. Estel took the moment to look about him at the area; great tall buildings so much as three stories towered about him. This was an industrial area; each of these buildings housed working quarters and sleeping quarters. And entire buildings, so tall, to be made of wood; it astounded the boy, and for a moment he simply stood and gaped.  
  
At the touch of a hand to his shoulder, Estel jumped. Turning round he found himself eye to eye with the boy who had spilled the dye in that textile room. "You came from Imladris?" he asked in a breathless tone.  
  
Warily, Estel nodded. "Aye."  
  
"Then you know the healer?" His tone grew hopeful with this question, not a hope of pleasure but the hope of a man who, tossed by the waves, spots something solid upon the horizon: this hope makes him swim, even if it be an iceberg he has seen.  
  
Estel nodded. "I do."  
  
"Thank the star! Will you come? Please, she is very sick. Will you come?" the boy asked.  
  
"Of course," Estel answered, not knowing who "she" was. This boy needed help, and though Estel knew little of healing he knew enough, he believed, to help her at least some.  
  
*****  
  
Elladan had volunteered to take his soiled tunic to the laundries for himself. "I could use the air," he said.  
  
"Very well," answered Pellatal. "You remember the way?" He had shown Elladan and Legolas the laundries after Estel had wandered off.  
  
"I believe I do."  
  
Now Elladan stood in the warm room for just one moment, looking around at the colors and movements about him. Many garments lay in great canvas bags, which were poured into vats of water suspended not terribly above small fires; soap powder was added, then the clothes mixed about with long wooden sticks. Rinsed, then hung to dry, and some clothes could be pressed by warm brings to keep out wrinkles.  
  
Not looking about carefully, Elladan tossed his tunic into the nearest bag, atop many other lifeless articles and a brown-paper package. Wait, though, that package--it caught his eye just as the tunic dropped over the package. He reached to grab the tunic away--  
  
"You won't want to be doing that," said a man, coming up to the bag before Elladan's hand closed around his own clothing.  
  
"Why won't I?" Elladan snapped, annoyed.  
  
"Because, sir," said the man, "this is for clothing to be burned. Lice infested, you see, and we don't want that to remain in the city." With that he took the bag and carried it over to a large kiln in the corner. With a heavy swear, Elladan left the building. For a count of seventeen he strode purposefully away. Within, the man threw the canvas bag onto the fire, then walked away as it burned.  
  
With a great sound, the building burst open and shattered in fragments to the ground.  
  
*****  
  
Estel stooped to pass into the dim room. Telloss, the boy who brought him, passed after, holding a lantern aloft. At once Estel saw his "patient" and felt the need to swallow a great lump in his throat. She shivered beneath two blankets on the small wooden bed, her pale skin framed by equally sweat- socked brown hair. "Airelonde," muttered the boy Telloss, kneeling beside her. He took a cloth from a wooden bowl by the bed and bathed her forehead.  
  
Estel saw now the urgency that had driven his companion. The innocent- looking child seemed at the door of death now, a fever draining her body of energies. Yes, indeed, the danger was quite real.  
  
Airelonde lifted a hand weakly and groped for Telloss, who clasped her hand firmly in his. "Who comes with you? Is it Erathrad?"  
  
"Shh, little sister. No, it is not he. I have brought a Man from Imladris; he knows the healer, Aire. He will help you."  
  
Her voice was weak as she rasped, "Is he safe?"  
  
"We must hope so," her brother whispered. "Be hush now."  
  
Estel stepped forward. "You want a proper healer," he said, "I am only fostered into the house of Elrond, I know not much."  
  
"But you do know?" Telloss asked him. "Please, we cannot send for a true healer. Please."  
  
The begging tone in his voice and the pleading in his eyes sealed Estel's decision. "How did she come upon this fever?" he asked. The brother and sister shared a nervous glance. "Please, you must tell me. It is the only way I can help you."  
  
In spite of Airelonde's protests, Telloss pulled back the blankets to reveal an enflamed area on her lower leg, where something must have lodged within her, Estel guessed. Ah, yes--the skin nearly, but not quite, covered over the bit of splinter protruding from within. "That needs to come out," he said.  
  
Airelonde squealed with fear. For the first time Estel really looked at her. How old was she? Ten, maybe eleven years at the most, and her brother perhaps seventeen. Where were they parents? This wound might be anything, but how had she come by it? No matter: Estel would fix her up as best he could.  
  
"Telloss, I want you to hold her hand while I do this," Estel instructed. He sought his dagger, then made clean the blade, rubbing it with spirits and holding it over a candle's flame. The leather scabbard he tossed to Telloss. "Have her bite down on this; she's not to let it go. Have you an empty bowl?"  
  
"A bowl?" Telloss asked. "Whatever for?"  
  
"To catch the blood in," Estel answered. Airelonde's pale face became worried and she clutched at her brother's hand.  
  
"I will go and fetch a bowl," he said. With the promise to return shortly, Telloss left the room. For a moment Estel stood, wiping the spirits from his dagger onto a strip of linen. Airelonde's shivers distracted him, and he moved to kneel beside her. "Hey," he said, looking into her frightened eyes. "I am Estel. And you are Airelonde, yes?"  
  
Nervously, she smiled. "Yes."  
  
"How old are you, Airelonde? How many summers do you have?"  
  
"Ten," she answered.  
  
"Ten summers!" he feigned surprise. "You are never small enough for ten; you must be at least fourteen summers!" Airelonde laughed.  
  
"No, I'm only ten!" she answered him.  
  
"Ten, yes? Well, you know what? In a few years, when you're big enough, I'm going to come back here and court you, Airelonde. You are just too beautiful to be let go." She blushed, and Estel smiled. "Do you think your mama and papa would be all right with that, Aire?"  
  
"You would have to ask Telloss," she said. "Mama and Papa died in the great big battle last spring."  
  
"I'm sorry. You must miss them something terrible."  
  
"It isn't so bad," Airelonde answered, trying to be brave. "The worst part is, all the children are either too big or too little to play with."  
  
Estel knew what that was like! He smiled at her again. "You have Telloss, though."  
  
"Brothers aren't much fun," Airelonde said. "Sometimes they are, and they will play with you, but other times they make you study languages and eat icky foods. You probably wouldn't know, being a grown-up."  
  
"Grown up? No! I'm only five years older than you, and you know what? I have two brothers!"  
  
"Two?" she giggled.  
  
It was then that Telloss re-entered the room. Estel rose and took from him a wooden bowl. Then, nervous, he knelt beside Airelonde's legs and looked to the other boy. Telloss held Airelonde's hand now, and she was struggling not to whine. With a deep breath, Estel punctured the skin.  
  
After that his hands steadied and he moved quickly. One incision this way and the other across it. Hold the bowl here while the blood flowed into it. Don't stop: take a firm grasp of that bit of wood, and wrench! He pulled the missile from Airelonde's leg: having ill prepared for this, Estel had no choice but to use his fingers to remove the foreign article. Then, hoping she would heal, the bound the leg with strips of linen.  
  
Panting, Estel sat back. He had moved as quickly as possible to get this done, and now the task was complete he dared rest, but only for a moment. Estel took the bowl of blood and sat it on the floor, then he went to stand by Airelonde and Telloss. Her face was pale as a lily flower. The hilt of his dagger had little pinpricks of indentations where Airelonde bit down.  
  
"She should heal," Estel said. "Rest, and liquids, and she will be fine."  
  
Telloss nodded. "Thank you so much. We are in your debt. Will you wait with her a moment? I will return shortly, but this blood. . .I wish to dispose of it as quickly as possible."  
  
Estel agreed, and Telloss was gone. Listening closely, Estel heard a door open, then hushed voices--"Telloss, what. . .?" "Shh, quiet!"--then again the door closed. What could the have been? Turning his attentions to Airelonde, Estel pressed the item into her hands.  
  
"Keep that to remember your bravery," he told her.  
  
"I will keep it to remember you," she answered.  
  
*****  
  
To be continued!  
  
As for the explosion at the laundry, that was supposed to be like what Saruman used to blow up the walls at Helm's Deep. This chapter isn't quite complete but will be completed tomorrow, hopefully, in a second installment. Also, I apologize for the errors in this but have as of now not got a beta reader--hopefully this status will change on the morrow.  
  
By the by, no one has gotten the source of the chapter titles yet, and I have a shout-out un shouted! 


	16. The things we admire in men, kindness an...

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
SHOUT OUT to Webster and Ice Cube1 for figuring out the source of the chapter titles! "Cannery Row" indeed!  
  


* * *

  
No one spoke for that moment, all eyes fixed on the elf standing by the window. Estel tried his best to conceal the blood on his tunic, Airelonde's blood. Elladan held a cloth to his head just above his left ear, where the bloodflow was ebbing now. The others--Legolas, Elrohir, and three elves they had not been introduced to who held office--sat quietly, expectantly.  
  
"It is unacceptable," Pellatal exploded, whirling away from the window and slamming his green-colored fist on the tabletop. The others jumped. "Sorry. I--I am sorry," Pellatal amended, "it is only that I am so angry at this perversity! That anyone should dare such an act of destruction against our city. . ."  
  
An elf of greater age than Pellatal, whose many years did weigh upon his shoulders, spoke, and as he did all was quiet, "We understand your anger, Pellatal, and for this reason we have proposed the ban--"  
  
"The ban will do nothing. It is a beginning only."  
  
Legolas's eyes darted to Estel. He understood the significance of this ban, which would curfew every mortal to being in only in residential areas after fall of darkness and prohibit them from holding office until further notice. This would extend to visitors, as well, though exactly what was to be done with the mortal none had said.  
  
Pellatal would have continued then, but for the interruption of the scene by an elf of less years, who entered the room, bowed, and stood in the doorway looking as though he needed very badly to speak. He was motioned to do so. "It's been passed," the young elf announced. "The ban has passed. Runners are carrying word to city guards even now!"  
  
The room broke into whispers and mutters, until the elder elf opened his mouth and the mass was hush for him. "With this under way, we may discuss this. . .perversity?" he asked, deliberately and subtly mocking Pellatal.  
  
"No," Pellatal answered. "With him present, nothing may be openly discussed." Estel felt a blush rise quickly over his cheeks under Pellatal's hateful gaze. The masked emotion had nipped at Estel since his arrival, but in its pure form such raw hatred felt it might swallow him whole.  
  
Elrohir protested. "He is safe. I will vouch for him."  
  
"As will I," Legolas added. "There is no call to send him away. Estel would not have caused anyone to be injured, especially not his own brother." He and Elrohir looked to Elladan, whose word they knew carried more weight than theirs and would be heeded if theirs be not.  
  
"This matters not. He cannot be trusted. Where was he when the explosion was set?" Pellatal asked this, and at once Legolas's heart sank, for he had no answer.  
  
"Elladan was there. Surely he must have seen Estel, if indeed Estel set this explosion?" Legolas returned, his gaze boring a whole in Elladan's head.  
  
Elladan swallowed hard, faced with a most difficult decision to make. He looked to Elrohir, then to Pellatal, each silently urging him to turn opposite ways. "No," he said at last, weakly. Then he raised his head, forced dignity, and looked directly into Pellatal's eyes. "No; we cannot trust a mortal, regardless of association. None of us wants to die here tonight."  
  
Elrohir and Legolas felt the blow, but Estel, who took it hardest, burst out, "Elladan! Have you forgotten everything? Don't you even know your own brother? Will you turn your back on the ones you love?"  
  
"You are only a boy," Elladan replied. "You cannot possibly understand." Estel felt as though someone pummeled his heart with every word Elladan spoke. "This is a time for adults to make decisions and children to obey them."  
  
"Elladan--"  
  
Legolas was not going to listen to his friend beg. "Elladan, you have no idea what you are saying. Perhaps someone needs to send you from the room."  
  
Daggers would be thrown, all could see as much, until Pellatal intervened, his voice sickeningly cunning. "Come, we are friends here, there is no call for raised voices. Surely the mortal understands that matters of law must be observed. No exceptions can be made, or the law would not hold its power. No one is being slighted here." Yet beneath his honeyed tones he spoke clearly his hatred for all who were not enamored to be party to.  
  
"Of course," Estel said. His voice broke over the words. "I will take my leave now. . ." Dread silence followed him as he left the room.  
  
"Right," said Pellatal as Estel closed the door behind him, "so, I suspect the setters of the trick to be these same terrorists as set the fires three weeks ago. As you all know these perverse being exploit not only their children but young girls not even in their teenage years. . ."  
  
Estel listened to this as he took deep, shaking breaths, fighting the urge to cry. Where was he to go? His assigned quarters were out of the question; for one thing, Pellatal might find him there, and for another, Elladan might. Something in Pellatal's speech nagged at Estel, about the girls. Something he had heard before. . .  
  
"All the children are either too big or too little to play with..."  
  
Telloss! Of course Airelonde would be that girl, the only girl old enough to partake but younger than a teen. Estel should have known. He should have realized when he cut the arrowhead from her leg. Telloss and Airelonde were involved in the rebellion.  
  
A crooked smile crossed Estel's face. "I'll show you, Elladan. I will show all of you."  
  
Meanwhile Elladan sat with his head bowed, regretting his decision. Estel had been right, Elladan realized. Why did he think this a moment too late?  
  
The answer is simple. Unable to bear the angry, uncomprehending gazes of Elrohir and Legolas, Elladan turned his eyes to his hands, suddenly interested in his fingernails. Elladan's tunic caught his eye. Had it only been that afternoon he had been stained with dye, had not moved as Pellatal snapped at that poor boy? Tears welled up in his eyes, but Elladan refused to cry them. This place, and all the history within it, was driving him mad.  
  
He looked to Pellatal, who was speaking with fervor again. He, Pellatal, slammed a fist against the table in anger. Unmoved, Elladan's gaze caught the shadow of a smudge, the green hints that Pellatal's fists left on the table. His mind raced to make the proper connection. That package in the laundry had been a form wrapped in parchment, unmarked but for a deep green smudge...  
  
It could have been anyone who worked the dyes. It could have been. But they all wore gloves. Elladan's breath caught in his throat. The image of those eyes returned to him, of the eyes of a woman he once loved...of a crime weighing heavily on Elladan's conscience. He blinked to clear his sight. It was happening all over again, and now it was Estel who would be caught in the crossfire.  
  


* * *

  
To be continued!  
  
Sorry this took so long to update, I was on holiday and hadn't access to a computer.  
  
Grumpy: Estel gave the little girl the arrowhead he extracted from her leg.  
  
Sycamore: The story just before this one, with Estel's first Eregion incident in it, which will explain how he became a ghost, is called 'Every Move You Make.'  
  
Thanks to everyone for reviewing, I love hearing from you! 


	17. And those traits we detest are the trai...

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
Estel breathed a sigh of relief. For once, something was going his way. He had reached the cloth factory without being seen by any of the watchmen in the streets, positioned rather faster than seemed reasonable. Estel wondered, as he caught his breath, whether these watchmen had been placed before the curfew had been instated--for this purpose was their only.  
  
Suddenly over the pounding of blood in his ears Estel heard footsteps on the cobblestones. Moments later, a lantern-bearing elf stepped into the lane. "Is somebody here?" he called. When no response came, he raised his lantern and looked about, but no one appeared. The watchman did not leave, though, for he knew he had heard something.  
  
Inside the factory, Estel held a hand over his heart. That had been rather too close for comfort! Had he not managed to pick the lock open in time, well, he did not want to think what could have happened. Banishing his panic, Estel gazed about his hiding-place. Looms filled the room, great shadowy forms. In the dim light, Estel could only hope that no one hid in the shadows.  
  
Carefully, he took a step forward. Nothing terrible happened, as Estel took another step and another his heartbeat slowed to a more average pulse, fear slipping away. This was not so terrible, not terrible at all. It was simply a matter of taking one step at a time. Estel reached the opposite wall and sighed. He had crossed this room--now just the next, and he would be on the streets again. Nothing to worry about.  
  
The dye room, once Estel had picked the lock on the door and slipped in, proved equally as full of shadows--but not frightening in the least. Estel truly knew that no intruder save himself lurked in these shadows, and in a most amazing manner he was not afraid. Perhaps he should have been, perhaps fear would have given him more caution, for near the back wall of the room Estel tripped and knocked a huge vat to the ground.  
  
Luckily the vat was empty, but it caused a great ruckus. A shout came from outside, then the sound of a key in the lock. Estel's heart imitated that of a hare as he scurried to hide behind another dye vat, hoping not to be found. Fearfully, he clutched a knife he had otherwise kept concealed and prayed that the use of this weapon be unnecessary.  
  
A guard from the streets entered. "Who's in here?" he called out. When he held up his lantern, Estel dared peek out from behind the vat and to his surprise he saw--a boy. This brown-haired, hazel-eyed fellow could not have been much older than Estel himself, yet the pure hatred sounding in his voice sent shivers down Estel's spine.  
  
The door connecting the two rooms had been left open, proving a great piece of luck. The boy-guard moved to investigate the next room and Estel slipped out from his hiding place. Such was his luck that Estel managed to reach the street without being heard. He dashed down the lane and leaned in a dark alley against a dirt wall, gasping to catch his breath, erratic with terror.  
  
"This is it," Estel told himself. "It is only a ten-minute walk to Telloss's home." He took a deep breath and plunged into a sea of enemies.  
  
*  
  
"Estel?" Elladan knocked on the door to his brother's assigned room. No answer came. "Estel, please let me speak with you. Please allow me to apologize." A lump formed in his throat. He knew that if Estel allowed him inside and accepted his apology, as Elladan had assumed Estel would, he would be so very grateful. Elladan had a thousand words in his head, a thousand words to speak. What he had not counted on was that Estel would not accept him.  
  
Elladan sighed. What was he going to do? Shouting his apology through the door would be inappropriate, but leaving Estel alone...and with that monster Pellatal about! Elladan would not let Estel suffer at the hands of that pervert, not again.  
  
Elrohir found his twin mumbling quietly, his head resting against Estel's door. "Is something amiss?" Elrohir asked, laying a hand on Elladan's shoulder. He did not approve of the manner in which Elladan had treated Estel--in fact, Elrohir very much would have liked to rebuke Elladan or childishly refuse to speak with him. However, he had elected an alternate approach: he would treat Elladan the same as he always did and wait for him to come to his senses.  
  
"I have done a terrible thing," Elladan replied. "Estel will not let me in. I know he has every right to refuse me, but...how can I leave him unprotected? I know he is growing into his adulthood, but that cannot stop this urge to protect him."  
  
Nodding, Elrohir considered this. "Perhaps he is asleep," he suggested, then reached forward and turned the doorknob. The door swung open to reveal a dark room. "Go and get one of the torches off the walls," Elrohir said, and Elladan did. Holding aloft their light, the boys saw naught. That is to say, they saw plenty, but only something not seen mattered: Estel.  
  
Elladan swallowed, but the lump in his throat would not disappear. "Elrohir," he said, "will you and Legolas please ready our horses and see if you can conceal them somehow outside? I think it is time to leave this place, do you agree?"  
  
"With all of my heart."  
  
Leaving Elladan to await Estel's return, Elrohir strode to the next door and knocked purposefully. Less than twenty counts passed before the door was thrown open. "Legolas, come, let us ready our horses, for tonight we ride for Imladris," Elrohir muttered. Legolas nodded, and the two slipped away with grim smiles. They were leaving. Elladan was his old self. Everything would be all right.  
  
Elladan, meanwhile, sat on Estel's bed sadly. He closed his eyes and, truly meaning it, he prayed. "Elbereth," he whispered, the muscles of his throat tight from keeping back sobs, "please look after my brother. He's only a little boy, he...I know he can look after himself, but I don't want him to have to, not so early. Please don't let him be alone. Don't let him die. If not for me, please do this for Men throughout the world. He will be their King, and he will be great. Please protect him. He is a good boy and will be a fine man. Don't let harm come to him."  
  
For a long time he sat in silence, then someone in the doorway spoke. "Elladan?"  
  
His head shot up. "Hello, Pellatal," Elladan said.  
  
"I was thinking, Elladan, about our last encounter. You remember what happened, I trust? It would be such a pity for any such thing to occur to that darling boy of yours. However, if you fight for injustice I can promise nothing."  
  
Elladan stared at him, flabbergasted. How was Pellatal capable of being so truly awful? Did ice run through his veins?  
  
"I only wanted to warn you. I am your friend." There was a pause in which the muscles of Elladan's throat moved in mute and blatant rage. "Well, I will leave you in peace then."  
  
"You blackmailing scum!" Elladan shouted to Pellatal's retreating back. When Pellatal was gone, Elladan closed his eyes tightly. "Watch over Estel, Elbereth. Please."  
  
*  
  
The knock at the door came as no surprise to Telloss. He had been sitting in the kitchen awaiting someone coming to arrest him, stomach churning with fearful anticipation, and so he opened the door to stoically accept his fate--and was not surprised to see a city guard standing before him.  
  
"Telloss, son of Andmel?" asked the guard. Telloss nodded. "You are hereby placed under arrest for anarchy and conspiracy to murder."  
  
Telloss nodded. "I understand," he said, and stepped into the street.  
  
"As is the girl," added the guard. Telloss's eyes grew wide.  
  
"No! She has done nothing, my sister is innocent."  
  
The guard replied, "Court proceedings will decide that matter for the law."  
  
Upon reflection, Telloss would realize that his actions had been stupid given that there was not only one guard at his door but one and three accomplices. Nevertheless at hearing that his young sister would be arrested he sprang forward and attacked the nearest guard. He landed a few solid punches before being swatted away. At the sickening sound of his head connecting with the pavement Telloss fell silent. Though he struggled bindings were put upon him, and the three accomplices disappeared inside.  
  
Much to his surprise, Telloss realized that the guard he had been left with was a Man. "You--you are as I am!" he gasped, just before having the breath knocked out of him by a sound kick to the stomach. "Why?" he rasped, coughing and spluttering. "Why do you do this?"  
  
The guard made no reply but to prepare for another kick.  
  
That kick never landed, but the guard crumpled to the ground with a surprised cry. Behind him stood a black-haired boy, his eyes as the sea on a stormy afternoon, shaking the pain from his hand. "There are others?" Estel asked.  
  
Telloss nodded and began to give their number, but was interrupted by the arrival of two city guards. They came at Estel; he managed to subdue one with a chop to his throat but the other landed a blow which for Estel's quick movement caught him on the shoulder. Reeling, Estel stepped back. He regained his presence of mind in time to parry the guard's next attack, which otherwise should have knocked him unconscious, and managed to spin round to the man's back and knock him smartly on the back of the head with the blunt end of his knife.  
  
The last fallen guard landed atop Telloss. Estel knelt and quickly pulled the body off of his friend, trying to discern the words of Telloss' muffled warning. "Estel, behind you!"  
  
But it was too late. Estel turned, only to be caught on the jaw by the fist of a burly guard. Stars exploded, and Estel folded to the ground.  
  
*****  
  
To be continued  
  
Deana: In answer to answer your question, the chapter after next.  
  
Thanks to everyone who reviewed, it was great hearing from you! Whee! 


	18. And while men admire the quality of the ...

"All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others."  
  
--George Orwell, Animal Farm  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
The first thing Estel knew was the pounding of hoofbeats, horses cantering inside his skull and eyes. Everything was dark and he shivered at the cold. Why were no lanterns lit? And what was that awful stench? "Ada," he mouthed, hardly daring hope, too frightened to cry out. It is all a nightmare, Estel told himself.  
  
Then he opened his eyes and his heart sank. Airelonde, beads of sweat dotting her pale face, smiled weakly at him. She lay upon the breast of her brother, who nodded to Estel. There had been no dream. This terror served as reality.  
  
"Where are we?" Estel asked.  
  
"Perhaps we are in Hell," Telloss answered wryly, "but a more realistic guess might be that we are within some sort of dungeon chamber beneath the ground." He wrinkled his nose. "The smell comes from the sewer."  
  
Estel also wrinkled his nose. At least that explained everything. Looking around, he saw walls of packed dirt with trickles of wetness and a floor of the same dirt. A door of wood with a wide metal ring for a handle and set in an archway of stone proved the only exit. "How are you feeling, Aire?" he asked.  
  
She forced a smile. "I am not frightened, Estel." Her slender fingers grasped something on a string around her neck. "The pain is nearly gone...and Mother and Father will meet me soon. I will be with them again." Estel saw the tears in Telloss's eyes and the strength that held them back. Airelonde lifted the rope over her neck and extended her hand to Estel. "You said to take this and remember you. In the next world, I will not forget anything. You must take it to remember me."  
  
Swallowing a lump in his throat, Estel took the arrowhead. He knew it, for he had taken it from Airelonde's leg on their first meeting. His heart thumped with sadness as the heavy pounding of a happy dog's tail against floorboards.  
  
"Boy."  
  
Telloss and Estel raised their eyes to meet those of the elf who stood before them, a disgusted look on his face.  
  
"The one Elladan calls brother. Come with me."  
  
Estel recoiled, but Pellatal grabbed his tunic and hauled him to his feet. "Good luck," Airelonde called weakly.  
  
"Find peace," Estel replied, then Pellatal yanked him from the room, slamming closed the door behind them.  
  
*  
  
"Wait for Estel here. If he comes, leave. All of you must leave. I will meet you home, in Imladris."  
  
"Elladan." Legolas looked at his friend witheringly. "We stay together."  
  
Elrohir agreed, "We have lost Estel. Elladan, now is not the time for you to be lost."  
  
The three sat in Estel's room. Legolas and Elrohir had by means they refused to state secured their horses out of the city, readying them for a sudden departure. Upon their return Elladan had related to them the threat of Pellatal, and Estel's absence became more and more worrying. Legolas could not help but chew at his fingernails, a habit he had abandoned many years ago. The tension in Elladan's body was obvious and worrying.  
  
They shared a thought but none dared indulge in the oral expression of this fret, until Elrohir lost his patience. "Pellatal clearly knows more than he is sharing. He may have Estel at this moment."  
  
"Then hope is lost."  
  
Legolas and Elrohir did not look at Elladan when he said these words but instead each looked to the other, their jaws slack and their eyes wide. They moved at the same moment. Legolas struck his friend in anger and Elrohir asked him, "Why does this place haunt you so? Why do you act so differently here?" Elladan made no reply, and his brother sat beside him. With an arm around Elladan's shoulders, Elrohir spoke gently, "What is it, Elladan? What is wrong? You always believed in Estel, in his luck and strength. Things have been so much better since the old group disintegrated. You have been his brother, not his teacher, and he loves you so much. Two months ago, had I suggested Estel capable of growing wings you would not have doubted me. What haunts you here, Brother? Please tell me. Let me share your burden."  
  
Elladan raised his eyes slowly, meeting his brother's loving gaze reluctantly. The pain and raw emotion in Elrohir's voice struck deeply in Elladan's chest, and he closed his eyes for a moment. "Do you remember the first time we came here? I stayed. I thought it would be for ever. Do you remember the woman, Maikarë? I stayed for her, Elrohir. I loved her. Then there was the attack...All this while I have been a slave to Pellatal's will in my wish to conceal this from you, but no more!" Elladan subconsciously straightened his shoulders. "I killed her, Elrohir. I tell you now, she died by my hand. Blinded by his propaganda and my own stupidity I made this mistake. It was with an arrow, but finding her body upon the field of dead I knew it for my own. I remember...her eyes were open. Ever since those eyes have haunted my dreams, but only here are they so close. I should have closed her eyes, but...Now you know. I am a murderer."  
  
"You are a warrior," Elrohir answered, his determination cloaking his voice in a husky sound not unlike anger. "You should never have gone to the field. Never give death a face."  
  
"He sent me out," Elladan answered. "Pellatal had been with the scavengers upon the field, retrieving unbroken arrows and swords. His shift came before mine: there were so many, so much ground to cover, that we took shifts as a night watcher might. There she was, so beautiful, unscathed by death but for my arrow protruding from her chest, and she was so...so terrified..."  
  
"You used the arrowheads then, didn't you?" Elrohir asked, seeing a glimmer of hope in the darkness and snatching it at once. "The heads you and I developed together?"  
  
Elladan answered to the affirmative on this, not quite understanding. "We called them eagles," he added.  
  
"And developed them to spread more blood in hunting, remember? They would be used to wound a deer. The hunters would track the deer, who would bleed profusely due to the wide opening caused by the arrowhead's design, and that would attract predators, remember?"  
  
Swallowing a sob and a heavy blush, Elladan answered shamefully, "We kept some, though we were ordered to destroy them. All right, I am a traitor as well, are you pleased?"  
  
"Yes," Elrohir answered. "Because you spoke naught of blood."  
  
"No, she did not bleed much."  
  
"Because she was dead a'ready when your arrow reached her!" Elrohir proclaimed, earning him a wide-eyed stare. "Dead bodies do not bleed, Brother. Pellatal killed her ere you stepped upon that field and stabbed your arrow through her heart. I believe this. I believe that my brother never killed his love."  
  
Legolas stood forth. "We must find Estel." The brothers looked to him in disbelief, and he said, "I am sorry. Elladan, I appreciate your distraught. Estel is in danger for his life. We must find him."  
  
They did then, armed with strength renewed by sorrow and understanding, a hatred fueled by anger, and with the most ironic of all wartime weapons, love. The three of them knew without a doubt that they would retrieve Estel by any means necessary. Pellatal had their little brother, to this count nothing could be called into question.  
  
They found Pellatal in the corridor. "Coincidence," he said, "I was just coming to see you."  
  
Pellatal held Estel, bound, a knife to his throat. Grey eyes wide, Estel looked with imploring gaze to the others. Fear-sweat rolled down his forehead, but for all of it he tried to be brave. Pellatal's cool tone pushed Legolas over the edge, and only Elrohir's grip on the prince's arm kept him from jumping forward. This they recognized as a fight between Elladan and Pellatal, and so resigned themselves to the sidelines, ready to jump in should the signal be given.  
  
Elladan said to Pellatal, "Let him go. Your fight is with me. Don't hurt him." He spoke words of negotiation intended to take an innocent out of harm's way.  
  
Pellatal, not to be fooled by such simple trickery, replied, "Someone needs to fall for this Elladan. History needs a villain. I am sorry, my friend. You must light the spark for this fire."  
  
"No," Elladan said. He had his goodness and would not be easily parted from it. "Let him go! Let us all leave here and history need never remember this."  
  
"No?" Pellatal asked, as a parent a disobedient child who refuses to go to bed. Elladan reiterated himself. Pellatal negotiated the hostage child and snapped the ropes around his wrists off with his knife.  
  
"Leave him be," Elladan demanded. "I am not going to fight for you, Pellatal, but I will fight against you. Estel never hurt you. Leave him be."  
  
There was a sickening crack and Estel gasped for air. It was all he could do to keep own his last meal. Bile burned his throat and dizziness swept over him. "Now?" Pellatal asked. Elladan faltered.  
  
Estel joined in here, determined not to fall to weakness, "Elladan, don't! Don't do it, I don't matter, you cannot let them all die!"  
  
"Legolas," Elrohir whispered, "do you smell that?"  
  
"Fire," Legolas answered. "Do you mean to burn us all alive?" he demanded of Pellatal.  
  
To the surprise of all, Pellatal, who seemed of sound mind, began laughing. "I speak of fire as a metaphor. No, Legolas of Mirkwood, if all die in fire there are none over whom I hold power. Do you truly think I wish to destroy my lessers? If all men are equal no man has power."  
  
Again Elrohir caught the implications of this speech. "But your superiors? You are killing them!" Pellatal only grinned in reply. "Legolas, we must find them!"  
  
"Go ahead," Pellatal said, "you shan't find them. Die trying. Run. I will not harm you."  
  
Without a word the two did, bolting from the scene with hopeful parting glances at the boy, whose pain had driven him to an extremely pale hue.  
  
Elladan tried again to negotiate the release of his brother, "Pellatal, please. Just let him go."  
  
Pellatal shook his head; "Wrong answer."  
  
"Wait!" Elladan could not see Estel hurt again. He refused to do it. "The boy has done nothing. Leave him and kill me in his place."  
  
"Elladan!" Estel cried.  
  
But Pellatal narrowed his eyes. "Why do you choose him before me?" Pellatal asked. "Do you know, Elladan, that this is a criminal? He was arrested for physically assaulting members of the city guard."  
  
Elladan's lip curled. "I only wish I had gotten to them first," he answered. "If you care not for him give him to me."  
  
"I think not." Pellatal laughed. "But if you will not join me..."  
  
"Estel!"  
  
He could hardly breathe. Had Pellatal not been holding him up, Estel would have fallen to the ground. Heat like molten metal coursed through his veins, away from the misplaced bone. He could hardly see. Every labored breath caused his belly to shiver. "Kill him, Elladan. Kill him."  
  
Before Elladan could answer, though his expression melted at the corners, they were interrupted by the reappearance of Elrohir and Legolas. It was the latter who spoke. "Seek to rule, Pellatal?" he asked. "Smoke fills the corridors and rooms of this building too quickly. All or none of us will leave this place!"  
  
Before Pellatal could reply, a great explosion rocked the building. The group was shaken, and Estel's head knocked against the wall. He struggled to remain conscious. Sounds of falling pieces echoed. Desperately, Elladan tried, "Would you kill yourself also, Pellatal, instead of handing this boy to me? This city is finished! None shall rule, none but Death holds sway now! There is an evil here and you channel it."  
  
If he did not know the truth of Elladan's words Pellatal ran in fear then, seeing his as a losing battle. He threw forward Estel, to be caught in by Elladan and swung quickly to Elrohir. Elrohir caught Estel round the shoulders without thinking. All of this jolting about addled his troubled mind and stomach, but the pressure on his injured arm was the straw that broke the camel's back: Estel was sick. "I'm sorry, dear," Elrohir said, meaning his words.  
  
As Elrohir gently lifted Estel into his arms and, Legolas at his side, ran for the city gates, knowing that Elladan would meet them there, the latter took a roll of leather from his pocket and swiftly opened it. Pellatal had nearly reached the end of the corridor.  
  
For Elladan, time moved molasses slow as he drew the throwing weapon from its slot in the leather carrier. Luckily for him Pellatal's run was one which kept his head steady, moving only his legs. Elladan drew his hand back and threw the dart with all his strength, watching as it spun out of control towards Pellatal, his breath held--  
  
The dart lodged in Pellatal's shoulder, not his head. The momentum slammed him against the wall, and Elladan took this opportunity to sprint after him.  
  
Out on the field, Elrohir and Legolas ran until they no longer found themselves mired in a bog of frantic beings. As gently as possible Elrohir set Estel on the ground. Legolas turned and watched the flames leap up, made to look brighter by the sickle moon hanging high in the sky. Somewhere in that city, Elladan remained. This brought less sorrow to Legolas's heart than the multitude standing on the grass and watching as their homes burned to the ground. A child began to wail, his cry rising with smoke pillars into the heavens.  
  
Elrohir turned Legolas's attention from the sorry scene, saying, "Legolas, hold him."  
  
Legolas took ahold of Estel, tenderly but firmly securing the boy as Elrohir lifted his arm. "This is not necessary," Estel protested. His objection fell on deaf ears.  
  
Elrohir's voice was quiet as he said, "I love you, little brother." Then he snapped the bones of Estel's arm into place. Estel's eyes bugged open and his mouth fell wide, gasping for breath. He shook with shock and pain, but did not faint or cry out. His muscles spasmed and Estel consciously fought to keep from swallowing his tongue.  
  
"I love you so much." And Elrohir smacked Estel's shoulder back into place. This time Estel bit down against the pain and the tears in his eyes, clenching his teeth to keep from screaming. He did cry, and the tears brushed away the ash that settled on his cheeks.  
  
Legolas, meanwhile, bit his lip to keep from crying out. As he muttered to himself, "Do not make this any worse for him," Legolas rubbed Estel's back as one might a crying infant. Only at the coppery tang of blood did Estel realize that he had sunk his teeth into Legolas's shoulder, and with difficulty he removed them.  
  
The black dizziness that swam before Estel at last he allowed to overtake him, and gladly removed himself to a world of blackness.  
  
*****  
  
To be continued  
  
Author's note: I apologize for any over-exaggerations of the pain of a broken bone, having myself only ever dislocated a shoulder.  
  
Gwyn: No worries there! The next story is almost entirely Legolas angst.  
  
Thanks as usual to all of my reviewers!  
  
Also, I'm looking for a beta reader, so if anyone's interested -please- let me know, I would very much appreciate it! 


	19. The sale of souls to gain the whole worl...

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
Estel sighed and leaned against the tree trunk. He clutched a handful of sticks to his chest, the minor scratches earned on his arm and chest almost pleasant, minor pains shouting out: I am here, I feel, I live. The evening sunlight filtered through the shifting leaves over Estel's face, polygons forming and reforming with new names. The birds were calling and, at the nearby camp, Estel heard the horses drinking from the stream.  
  
"Hallo, Estel. You have us all worried."  
  
Legolas began to gather some of the larger branches, those Estel, with his left arm wrapped in a makeshift sling and bandages, could not handle himself. Estel bit his tongue not to protest this help, knowing well that he needed the assistance. Even with light travelling and much rest, Estel was tired. He needed a decent sleep, one uninterrupted by nightmares and not spent on the ground. He missed his bed and his home.  
  
"Come. The sun is setting; your brothers are waiting."  
  
"Khila lle,"[1] Estel answered with a nod, his voice deeper, slower than it had been. He found that words came with difficulty and often did not suffice to express his meaning. He was a new person and the old words fit him badly.  
  
"Pelilmet ve-er." [2] Neither knew if Legolas spoke a prayer or a question.  
  
Deciding that he preferred a prayer, Estel stepped forward. "An ilye rei."[3]  
  
The two walked back to their camp together, quiet and smiling. Legolas noticed the way he and Estel mixed and swayed in tune with one another. Somehow with few words and fewer honesties, they had become friends.  
  
Elladan grabbed his brother in a one-armed hug and kissed his forehead. "Welcome back, foal." 'Foal' had been Elladan's childhood nickname for Estel, and he had reinstated it in lieu of recent events. Estel did not protest.  
  
"Don't steal the fire-starter, Elladan," Elrohir teased. Elladan released Estel, who promptly knelt by the already-cleared firepit and began, with some help, to assemble a conical pile of kindling.  
  
Later, as they sat around the blaze talking and joking, Estel asked, "Can we...ah...can we talk about Eregion?" This last comment he said as one word, so quickly did Estel speak. Suddenly he knew not what to say. His mouth ran dry. "Elladan..."  
  
Elladan sighed. "There is no call to revisit this," he said. "Let sleeping dogs lie."  
  
"Let weeping boys cry," Legolas shot back. "The same orc dung. There is call enough to revisit Eregion, Elladan. Estel deserves to know the whole story."  
  
Elladan shook his head. He looked to Elrohir for support, but Elrohir sided against him. "You know I love you, Elladan, but for Estel you must do this." The elder twin looked away. "Elladan? You must do this for yourself."  
  
"I see I am voted out," Elladan began, but Estel interrupted him.  
  
"No, you are not. I do not need to know, Elladan. Keep your secret, I do not mind."  
  
"My selfless little brother! Now I must tell for you." Elladan took a deep breath and addressed the topic as removed, as though speaking of a battle he never saw. "She, the mother of my child, was named Maikarë. When I fought for Pellatal I fought against Men. He set the scene to appear that I had murdered Maikarë, and I believed his lie. My unsatisfied conscience made me pliable in Pellatal's hands. Estel, I am so sorry. I love you so much, and never again will I turn against you. I swear it."  
  
Estel swallowed tears. "What happened to Pellatal?" he asked. "Tell me if he be dead or alive."  
  
"Dead," Elladan answered bluntly. The fire crackled and Legolas and Elrohir sat quietly to observe, understanding that this conversation was not theirs to have. "He earned a second chance, and he earned a third. There will be no fourth. Those who have no heads have no futures."  
  
There were hisses of pain at this remark and for a moment everyone was quiet. Fury rose in Estel's chest, along with an inexplicable need to cry. "I won't cry for him!" he said. "I refuse to mourn the passing of an evil man."  
  
"Hush, brother," Elrohir told him. "It is not yours to judge."  
  
"Not mine to..." Estel did not finish his sentence.  
  
Elladan spoke softly into the fire, "Pellatal believed he was right. Not evil, just crazy."  
  
They left it at that and none needed more on the topic. As the smoke began to stand out brightly against the night sky and the time was elected decent for the first watch to begin, Estel said, "Perhaps..." Then he fell silent, embarrassed.  
  
Elladan finished for him, "Perhaps we should huddle, like we used to. That always made everything seem all right."  
  
They did, moving away from the fire such that no one was burned and negotiating their huddle to include four. The huddle looked something like this: four boys with their heads together, clasping hands to bind themselves as one, almost like a protective ring in that each pair held on to the hands of the opposite behind his neighbor's back. It looked and sounded extremely silly, but it made them feel safe and warm inside.  
  
"Estel?"  
  
"Age before beauty."  
  
So Elladan began with his wish. "I wish that we all heal, that this experience brings us closer than ever and remains behind us as well as a part of us."  
  
Elrohir waited for Elladan's wish to settle over the group before he whispered his own. "I wish that Estel's injuries heal swiftly and without infection."  
  
Legolas followed this as smoothly as though he had participated in hundreds of wish-huddles before. "My wish is for the land of Eregion, that it may forget the sorrows it has seen."  
  
"I wish..." Estel could not choose a wish, for he wished so many things. At last he said, "I wish that the people of Eregion may find new homes; that those who need may find new parents; that those who are dead may be released to peace; that those who live...that those who live may move on."  
  
"Tulkas guard us; Este heal us."  
  
*  
  
Strider looked at his companions, all of their faces showing degrees of shock or sorrow. "Peregrin..." There were trails in the light cover of grime on his face. "How I wish I could have given you a happy ending."  
  
Pippin smiled. "You're our happy ending, Strider," he said.  
  
Strider could not speak. He tried and failed, looked and found no words. At last swallowing this drowning of emotion, he said, "Come; the hour grows late. Nay, the hour grows early, 'tis the morn. The tale is finished. Go to sleep now, the lot of you. Don't listen the ramblings of an old man."  
  
"No! No, it's not yet finished because...because what happened there? What happened between Estel and Elrond?"  
  
Strider looked to Legolas. "Will you save my life again?" he asked.  
  
"If I am given no option," Legolas answered with a grin. "You too should be abed, little one." With that teasing remark he finished the story: "Elrond handed him a pen and parchment and he said, 'Whenever you are ready, Estel...' For a long while Estel stood. He watched the rest of us begin to wander in, then his legs began to shake and he sprinted after Elrond. He said, 'Ada, wait! I...I will tell you anything. Everything! I want to tell you everything.'  
  
"Estel and Elrond were together for a long time. I know not what they said but that Estel cried, and then, after a good long time, he began to mend."  
  
Strider lit his pipe and watched the others wander off to their respective beds. Only one paused, and that was Pippin. He turned back to Strider and meant to say something else, but couldn't. "Good night," he said at last.  
  
"Good night, Pip." Strider added, almost under his breath, "Tulkas guard you. Este heal you."  
  
*****  
  
And now, the end.  
  
1 Khila lle: I follow you  
  
2. Pelilmet ve-er: May we go together (as one)  
  
3. An ilye rei: For all days  
  
Author's note: After this story I will be going back and writing the first stories in the series, so the next one will be "Bear With Me" in which Estel is two years old and cannot sleep. If anyone lacks interest in the earlier stories drop me a line and I'll let you know when the story chronologically after this is posted.  
  
The speeches from which the chapter titles are taken, as originally written by John Steinbeck in "Cannery Row", read:  
  
"Look at them. There are your true philosophers. I think, he went on, that Mack and the boys know everything that has ever happened in the world and possibly everything that will happen. I think they survive this particular world better than other people. In a time when people tear themselves to pieces with ambition and nervousness and covetousness, they are relaxed. All of our so-called successful men are sick men, with bad stomachs, and bad souls, but Mack and the boys are healthy and curiously clean. They can do what they want. They can satisfy their appetites without calling them something else...They could get it, Doc said. They could ruin their lives and get money. Mack has qualities of genius. They're all very clever if they want something. They just know the nature of things too well to be caught in that wanting."  
  
"It has always seemed strange to me...The things we admire in men, kindness and generosity, openness, honesty, understanding and feeling are the concomitants of failure in our system. And those traits we detest, sharpness, greed, acquisitiveness, meanness, egotism and self-interest are the traits of success. And while men admire the quality of the first they love the produce of the second...The sale of souls to gain the whole world is completely voluntary and almost unanimous—but not quite. Everywhere in the world there are Mack and the boys." 


End file.
